On Taming the Stars
by nlizzette7
Summary: "Tainted pearls shuffled with fake diamonds, and they all fell into the dirt. Broken girls danced with crackled gentlemen, and neither could see it in the other." AU, historical. CB.
1. Prologue

**1. Prologue**

The year was 1916. Things fell as they should have in a world of ruffled dresses traipsed with fine satin as they kissed hardwood ballroom floors. It was a time of luxury and promise - chance and fortune, whichever you really chose to believe in. But really, it was a time of emptiness disguised as extravagance. You'd own everything and be left with nothing. You'd be shown love and never truly feel it. Tainted pearls shuffled with fake diamonds, and they all fell into the dirt. Broken girls danced with crackled gentlemen, and neither could see it in the other. And on a particular Saturday across Southampton, carriages were being loaded with crisp leather cases, foreheads were being left with clean red lip prints, and airy farewells were being bidden. That day had been a year in the making, and it was as if the air was holding its breath, the waves waited on low tide.

The RSS Onslaught was to set sail at dusk. After the tragedy of the Titanic, it would save the face of Liverpool Industries indefinitely, launching Britain back into its former esteem. This time they would perfect the formula. _This_ would be the new ship of dreams. And maybe...of nightmares, too. You see, its destination wasn't just some sparkling harbor waiting in New York City. Blair Waldorf bathed herself in drizzled parfums, each spritz another warning to her awaiting fall. A doomed marriage, an empty future, a whisper of finality to life itself. And Charles Bass, securing his cufflinks and smoothing back his hair as he shuffled the ticket on his bureau - it was a gamble. 18-years-old and far from the clutches of wrathful fathers and big business scandals.

They were young and lost, ghosts of children who didn't know the difference.

And in the year of 1916, the RSS Onslaught took them home.

:::

"Mother, _please_," Blair hissed, face reddening in effort. Her mother ignored her, forcing another extravagant hat onto her head. Blair tried to shift away, but her maid reigned her in, tugging at the ties of her corset behind her. Blair took a moment to admire her progress in the vanity, shaky fingers tracing the lace of her corset. Blair didn't simply strive for beauty, but perfection. There were to be no cracks or rips, no holes that others would dig straight into. Wild beauty was a dangerous one - it would fall apart and no one would notice. Blair let out a short breath. Maybe that wasn't all too different from who she already was.

"You're acting like quite the child," Eleanor Waldorf drawled, adjusting the loose curls hanging in Blair's face. Her mother, with striking, slanted features, had the sort of look that commanded attention. Her lips were painted a heavy red that reminded Blair of the fabrics she was forbidden to wear. _Ladies weren't to dress in shades of sin, anger, or lust, of course. _They were to be as pure as dull yellow and dreadful white. "Shall I have Dorota draw you up a pacifier?"

Blair rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. "I'm sure that would please you."

Eleanor frowned, taking Blair's chin between two of her fingers. "Mind your manners, young lady. Your attitude doesn't fair well on that pretty face. Dorota, please continue packing Blair's luggage." The burly maid nodded, casting a sympathetic glance in Blair's direction. She left the room, and Eleanor resumed her position, pulling up at the ties. Blair lost her breath as the fabric tightened over her ribs, curling into her skin.

"How many pastries did you have for breakfast?" Eleanor huffed. She shoved Blair's back, forcing it to arch. Blair held her breath, a cutting noise escaping her parted lips. Not for the first time, she thought of the maidens that she often saw playing in the park while _she _was being escorted around the bay in drawn carriages with the girls from her lessons. She allowed herself to be envious for a moment before taking hold of the pain and stomping it out with the fingernails digging into her palm.

"I don't remember, Mother."

"I thought you'd at least mind your weight this week," Eleanor continued, reaching around to give Blair's stomach a light pat. Blair nearly snarled, shoving her mother's hand away. "Don't you want Nathaniel to see you at your best?" Blair closed her eyes, picturing Nathaniel Archibald's golden hair and bright boyish eyes. Nate was the type of boy who frequented all of the announcements, heavily desired by any societal girl with an ache for a spree of money and the Vanderbilt name. Beside him, her mother made it seem like Blair was a cow.

"I'll try to remember to starve myself next time," Blair replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Her mother ignored her, finally tugging the strings of her dress through the last loop.

"There," Eleanor sighed. She turned Blair in her chair, gripping her arms. Blair crossed and uncrossed her legs as her mother's catty nails dug into her forearms, sans an inch of mercy. "We both know how important this trip is for you. For both of us. After your father left us to join those country peasants in France, our one salvation was the Archibald family."

"I know, Mother."

"Your engagement to Nathaniel has finally cleared the Waldorf name," Eleanor cooed, walking over to Blair's vanity. Blair rolled her eyes as her mother rifled through her things, leaving her carefully arranged perfumes looking just as her life did. Pretty and completely wrong, all at he same time. "I was even able to show my face at brunch last Sunday. Those old hags were all beside themselves when they heard the news."

Blair scoffed, getting up from her seat. "Well, that's just _marvelous_." She mocked Eleanor's tone, jutting her chest out as her mother often did, pursing her lips in a slight quack.

"Nate is a nice young man. Well-mannered, gentle, _loyal _– "

"Is he?" Blair remarked, smirking at her mother's back. "Ever since the van der Woodsen girl returned from that reformatory, he's been seen with her all over Liverpool. It's been quite the talk during Saturday weaving." Blair forced the image of blonde curls and sweet smiles from her mind. _A wild beauty - the most dangerous one of all._

Eleanor froze, her shoulders practically jutting above her head. Blair found the situation completely amusing as her mother gently set her compact down in front of her and turned with a jaunt, cartoonish expression on her snarling face. "You'll soon learn that the happiest women live by looking the other way."

"Is that how you managed to stay with Father?" Blair asked, very aware that she was speaking out of turn. But she couldn't stop herself. "We all saw the stable boy he always went off with. We all knew – "

"That's _enough_," her mother hissed, turning to face Blair. "We don't speak about your father's affairs in this house anymore. You will _not _pull another one of your rebellious stunts aboard this ship. Keep yourself together until the wedding in New York. As your mother, that's all I ask of you."

Blair's heart sank as she nodded. "Fine."

Eleanor's face brightened before she turned away again. "These arrived for you this morning. Aren't you a lucky girl?" Eleanor pointed to a vase of roses on the counter. She plucked an ivory card from the center of the bunch and handed it to Blair.

_For my Blair, as sweet as a rose._

She remembered Isabel Coates, the gossip that everyone detested at weaving. She'd gone on and on about seeing Nate and Serena van der Woodsen taking a stroll by the lake. "And she was carrying a bouquet of _roses_," Isabel had swooned. Blair shook her head, letting the card fall to the floor. She brushed past her mother with the sweetest smile she could muster up.

"How nice," Blair called over her shoulder, brushing off the bodice of her dress and leaving a trail of sweet perfume in her wake. "But I prefer peonies."

And that day, Blair decided to dress in red.

:::

"Nathaniel, at least try to liven up," Chuck smirked, pulling a cigar between his lips. He glanced at his friend, cutting a fit of smoke into the air. "Your mood is depressing me."

"What mood?" Nate asked, sullen. He watched as their caddies lugged their bags onto carts and hauled them across the deck they were standing on. The sun would set in an hour, but it was still blaring in rebellion. It was much too hot for the high collar wrapped around his neck, or the sleeves that reached down to his wrists. His friend, who cared little about the gossips that would have a field day with his attire, wore his dress shirt unbuttoned, down to an inch below his collar, his tailored suit a flattering white. _The lucky bastard._

"We're about the board the most popular ship in the world, _first class_," Chuck said, gesturing to the huge black mast in front of them. "And you look as if someone's just died."

Nate shrugged, plucking a piece of lint from his trousers. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"_Please_," Chuck drawled. "We've been friends for ten years. This doesn't have anything to do with a certain wife-to-be, does it?" His tone was snarky and highly disapproving. Chuck could hardly fathom the idea of temporary monogamy. The whole notion of sanctioned marriage was simply abhorrent. They both glanced down at the silver band around Nate's finger.

"It's not Blair. She's…beautiful. She is," Nate said.

"Then, what is it?" Chuck asked, blowing out circles of smoke. "Already missing our bachelor trysts? I must say, I had two Swedish maids the other night. It was quite a shame that you couldn't take one off my hands."

Nate laughed. "It's not that either. It's just – "

"_Nathaniel_," a woman shrieked, coming towards them at full speed. She was frighteningly aggressive, towering over the crowd of caddies and bellboys with waving arms and her mouth open wide. Nate shrank back, eyes darting wide for an escape, but he came up with none.

"Jesus," Chuck muttered, begrudgingly butting out his cigarette. "Who's this?"

"Mrs. Waldorf," Nate called with a pinched smile. He lifted the hat from his head, holding it to his chest. The woman curtsied, giving him a coy smile.

"You _must _call me Eleanor. We'll be family soon."

Nate cleared his throat, fighting to keep the smile on his face. "Of course, Eleanor. May I introduce you to Charles Bass, a very close friend of mine. He'll be the best man at the wedding."

"Of course," Eleanor cooed. "Barthomelow's son. You've grown into a fine young man. With quite the scandal under your name." Of course, she was referring to the headlines that flooded the papers like the plague every weekend. The infamous Chuck Bass seemed to be everywhere these days, news of him even branching to America. _Billionaire's son to carry on his father's scandalous reputation? Bass heir takes Manhattan by storm and leaves no girl unacquainted._

Chuck grinned, finding it all too amusing as he pressed his lips to her white glove. "I'm pleased to say that my reputation precedes me."

Eleanor blushed, gently pulling her hand away. "Blair will be so pleased to meet someone so close to her wonderful fiancé. Now, where did she go? Blair? Blair!" Nate and Chuck turned their attention to a young woman making her way through the crowd. Chuck' heart stopped when she finally came into view. He was used to seeing beautiful woman. He'd slept with countless bubbly brunettes, the supposed "good girls" of society. But _this _one was entirely different. She was stunning, a vision dressed in scarlet. Her hair was pulled up into a sophisticated up-do, with a few stray strands skimming her cheekbones. Her cheeks were flushed, nearly as red as the curve of her lips. She was a saint – a saint desperate to know sin. Chuck was unashamed of his stare, waiting for her eyes to find his over the crowd, and he was taken. She came over to them then, casting a curious glance in his direction before she let Nate kiss her cheek. Chuck cleared his throat. _Right. She belongs to Nate._ The one woman he couldn't have.

"Nate, I've missed you," she murmured, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "And who's this?"

"Charles Bass," Chuck cut in, taking her hand. Her eyes held his as he bent to kiss her black glove. His lips lingered, and she narrowed her eyes before pulling away.

Nate watched them. "This is – "

"Blair Waldorf," Blair interrupted, leaving Nate completely useless. He was oblivious to the way his friend's eyes glinted at the sight of his fiancé, a predator admiring his prey, sizing up the potential threat. Blair met his gaze as a challenge, fanning herself as she smirked. "It's a pleasure."

Chuck smiled at her, quirking an eyebrow. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Waldorf."

Eleanor cleared her throat, situating herself between the two. "Nathaniel, Blair was just going on about how _thrilled _she is to spend so much time with you on the ship."

"Was I, Mother?" Blair mused, crossing her arms. Eleanor reached out and loosened her arms just as quickly.

"Of course you were," Eleanor quipped. She shot a look at Blair, gripping her wrist like a vice. Blair shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Chuck took it all in, gauging the way Blair protested and her mother fixed – it was magnetism at its worst.

"Well, I'm just as excited," Nate cut in. Blair glanced at him, but he didn't look her in the eye.

"Mother," Blair sighed, her eyes flitting to Chuck for a moment. "It's probably best if we return to the carriage. You know how absent Dorota can be. She doesn't have a clue where to put our things." Eleanor nodded, frowning back at the carriage. She spun on her heel without saying goodbye, ever known for her brashness. Blair rolled her eyes and turned to the boys. They both watched as she slid a hand over her the neck of her dress and smiled.

"I'll see you on the ship then, Nate," she said. She brushed her fingers over his cheek before nodding at the boy beside him. "Charles."

Chuck nodded back. "Looking forward to it, Miss Waldorf." He watched her walk away, entranced by the way her hips swayed back and forth as she retreated through the crowd, unfazed by the smoke and commotion surrounding her. "You certainly have found yourself a prize," he said to Nate. "I don't know how you've managed to keep your hands off her." But Nate wasn't paying attention to him any longer. Chuck raised his eyebrows, following his best friend's gaze. On the other side of the deck, a blonde girl was perched on a black rail. Her hair hung loose, down to her back, grazing the neck of her corset. Chuck smirked. Of course Nate was smitten with the van der Woodsen harlot. He watched the way she tilted her head back, obviously seducing every man who passed her by. Personally, Chuck preferred his women with a bit of mystery, a coy smile. There was nothing secretive about Serena's favorite pastime.

"So that's your secret," Chuck said, nudging Nate's arm. "I can't say I'm surprised. Blondes really _must_ stick together."

Nate rolled his eyes, so used to his friend's taunting and straightened up. "It was just a bit of fun during my weekend in Liverpool. Blair will never know."

"Don't be so naïve, Nathaniel. With the way those society girls gather gossip, I'm sure that she found out before it even happened." They heard the horn blow from the front of the ship, calling the crowd to action, and one of the captains yelled out for the first boarding. Nate and Chuck followed the line of chattering socialites to the wide plank hanging over the water. "Might I ask why you agreed to this whole arrangement?" Chuck asked. "Since you'd clearly rather be up Serena's skirt?"

Nate shrugged. "Don't be so crass. The Waldorfs come of very old money. _Big _money. My father needs one last grand investment, and her mother needs her good reputation back. Which leaves us in the middle of it."Chuck half-heartedly smiled as he watched his friend board the ship in front of him.

In his opinion, Nate seemed to have to better end of the deal.

:::

"Isn't it all so lovely? Look at the finishes on the furnishing. And the tapestries. Oh Blair, do you see that?" Blair felt the sudden urge to throttle her mother as the woman ran her hands over everything she laid eyes on. She was completely overexcited, and it was exhausting.

"Yes, Mother," Blair sighed. "I'm standing right next to you."

"Oh, even that attitude of yours couldn't dampen my mood," Eleanor said. "This ship is simply a dream."

"As was the Titanic," Blair muttered under her breath. "If only I could suffer the same fate."

"What was that, darling?"

"Nothing. Do you like the dress I've chosen for the ball?" Blair asked, spinning around. It was an hour before the first gala on the ship, and they were getting ready in their chambers. Blair was wearing a long black-laced gown, tighter than the dresses her mother usual forced her into. It hung over her curves in just the right way. The way it draped over her flushed skin was nearly sinful, and she was thrilled at how it distressed her mother.

"I don't know why you didn't put on that lovely yellow number I picked out for you," Eleanor said. "That's a bit scandalous, if you ask me." Blair rolled her eyes, glancing at the horrid number that was hanging from the wardrobe across the room. It resembled at bonnets that infants wore, with creampuff sleeves and tacky ruffles. Before she could respond, there was a loud knock on their door.

"That must be Nate," Blair said, straightening her gown.

"How wonderful," Eleanor swooned. "Handsome _and _punctual."

"Yes," Blair mocked. "Absolutely wonderful." She answered the door to find Nate, his hair still wet from getting ready, a few blonde ringlets darkening into a deep brown. He was handsomely dressed in a black tuxedo. She smiled politely as he glanced down at her dress.

"You look stunning," he said, holding out his arm. She took it, nodding in gratitude as she stepped out of the room. Despite the charade of their upcoming nuptials, Blair was thrilled by the compliment.

"Mother, are you coming?" Blair called, peeking back into the room. Eleanor shooed her away, nearly kicking the door closed.

"No, darling. You two enjoy yourselves. I'm quite exhausted from packing the luggage earlier." Blair nearly choked on her laughter. As if her mother had ever lifted a hand to pack her own luggage. That would be the day. At Blair's nod, Nate led her downstairs, and Blair marveled at the interior of the ship. It was hard to imagine that they were sailing over the Atlantic. Everything was polished, glittering gold and mahogany browns, smelling of fine wood and fanciful cider. It seemed like another miniature world, far away from the water.

As if Nate could read her mind, he turned to look at her. "It's quite sensational, isn't it?" Blair nodded, stepping off the grand staircase. He led her into the grand ballroom, and she gasped. The ceilings were so high, the furniture so extravagant. Gold patterns trailed across the walls, dipping low to the hardwood floors. All around them, couples were waltzing across the room, women were whispering to each other, and men were chatting over the stock market. "Shall we go in, then?" Nate asked, glancing at her awestruck face.

"Of course," Blair said, snapping out of her reverie. She let a host take her coat, and then walked through the room. Nate introduced her to a number of his friends from America, and Blair did her best to smile politely. But it all felt like a script.

_It's a pleasure to meet you_.

_Yes, we've just recently been engaged._

_It'll be a spring wedding. We're very excited._

Blair already felt exhausted. She couldn't breathe in her dress. All of these false niceties made her crave the peace of her room, wondered if she could slip away to the top of the ship. She needed air. She needed just a second of _reality_.

"Are you alright?" Nate whispered to her, placing a hand on her back. He guided her away from the crowd. Blair glanced up, taking a breath. Across the room, she saw a blonde girl sipping champagne at one of the tables. Blair froze, biting her lip.

"I'm fine," Blair replied. "Just so parched."

"I'll go fetch you a glass," Nate said. She smiled gratefully, waiting for him to disappear into the crowd before she dropped the achingly fake sweetness from her lips and made her way to the girl. She cleared her throat before tapping her on the shoulder.

"Serena van der Woodsen?"

"Yes," Serena said, smiling up at Blair. "I'm sorry, have we met before?" The girl was as beautiful as everyone made a fuss about, the type of beauty that was to be admired _instantly_. Blair frowned. _And then discarded just as quickly._

Blair smiled back, clasping her hands together. "I'm Blair Waldorf. We took etiquette classes together when we were young."

"Of course! How could I forget Madame Durant?" Serena laughed. "How are you? It's been so long."

"Those _were_ such fascinating classes. Although, I'm not sure how well you faired in them."

Serena frowned, a small crinkle forming between her brows. "What ever do you mean?"

"I don't believe it's proper to have a sordidly public affair with another woman's fiancé," Blair hissed through her teeth. She kept the smile plastered on her face, nodding passersby.

"I don't know what – " Blair held out her hand, placing it on the table in front of them. Serena glanced down at the ruby ring glittering on her finger. Blair smiled at her, pulling her hand away.

"I'm engaged to Nathaniel Archibald," she said. "So, I think you know _exactly _what I mean."

"I don't know what to say," Serena muttered, staring down at her fingers.

"I didn't come to hear you speak, Miss Van der Woodsen. I came to tell you that this is _my _engagement. Find some other gentleman to satisfy your needs. Embarrass me any further than you already have, and you'll find out exactly what I'm capable of." Blair turned away then, leaving the stunned blonde alone at the table. She looked throughout the crowd, brushing past the dancing couples. Nate was nowhere to be found.

"Miss Waldorf. What a pleasant surprise." Blair turned to see a devilishly handsome man standing behind her. Chuck Bass was donned in a dark tuxedo, well-fitted to his body. He was all dark, a face that was born to brood, lips that were made to tease, eyes that held secrets upon secrets. Unlike Nate, he wasn't ashamed to rake his eyes over her body, his gaze following the lace pattern of her dress. Blair swallowed, flushing under his stare. Her fiancé's best man was just the sort of gentleman that her mother forced Blair away from. Blair relished it.

"Hello, Charles," Blair drawled in return, offering him a small smile. "Have you seen my fiancé?"

"I can't say that I have," Chuck said, taking a step towards her. "But as his best man, it's my duty to have a dance with you."

Blair smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it?" Instead of answering, Chuck simply grinned and took her into his arms. Blair gasped as he placed a hand on the curve of her waist and used the other to grasp her fingers. She recovered quickly, letting him lead her along to the soft music playing from the string quartet in the corner of the room. It was incredible, really. She felt more sure of herself as he swept her across the floor, neither one of them leading, than she'd ever felt with Nate's stiff arms and clumsy steps.

"You're very sure of yourself," she said. His face was awfully close to hers, and she took the chance to study the curve of his full lips, the way his jaw was firmly set. He had to be the most handsome man she'd ever met. But there was wickedness in his eyes, a glimmer of mischief. Danger.

"So they say, Miss Waldorf," he replied.

"And you dance very well," Blair continued, letting him hold her more firmly. She placed a hand on his shoulder, smoothing out his collar.

"I'm glad you think so."

"Do tell me, Mr. Bass. What brings you aboard the Onslaught?" Blair asked. Chuck paused, taken aback by the genuine curiosity in her voice. He smiled down at her, slowing their pace.

"My father is hoping to open a branch of hotels in America," he said. "I'm there to scout the location and – if all goes well – obtain supervision of the branch."

"How impressive," Blair replied. "So you'll be on your own in New York City. I can only imagine the trouble a man like you will stir up."

Chuck laughed, pulling her closer to his chest. "One can only hope." Even as he spoke, he stared down at her, eyes intent on the slope of her neck, the pull of her neckline against her skin. Blair braved a hand up to his chin, jutting it up. Chuck smirked at the brazen act but said nothing.

"If you're so keen on staring, Mr. Bass," Blair whispered, her breath fanning out over his cheek. "You might want to commission a portrait."

"Hm," Chuck mused, touching her chin in return. "To partake in the portraits I enjoy, we'd have to be rid of that decadent dress of yours." Blair swallowed at his words, her lips parting before pressing shut again. Her mind raced as he pulled her closer, a spider to a fly, seeking with no regret, without an ounce of hesitation. But Blair - she found a sudden desire to be caught, a craving for his entrapment.

"Yes, well…" Blair froze, glancing at something over his shoulder. She pulled away, much to Chuck's disappointment, watching as Nate held Serena in his arms across the room. The blonde smiled up at Nate, giggling as he tugged a strand of her hair. Chuck frowned, following Blair's gaze. He shook his head when he saw them and turned back to Blair.

"Blair, you should know – "

"Don't," Blair whispered, trying to cool the heat on her cheeks. She didn't dare look up at the blonde couple across the room again, or at Chuck. Instead, she held herself firm, composed her posture as she'd practiced again and again when she was a little girl.

"But – "

"Not a word, Mr. Bass," Blair said, her voice toneless. Her eyes were cold when they finally met his. "Thank you for the dance."

And with that, she fled the room, leaving Chuck alone in the crowd.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys. As promised to a few, I've decided to repost this with some MAJOR edits. It was originally published as _Ever Ours._ I'm going to try my hand at the historical genre again and see what happens! As always, please review if you have a moment. I'd love to know what you guys think, and I'll continue if there's enough of a response. xoxo, N.


	2. All That Glitters

**2. All That Glitters**

Blair took one last sip of her morning tea, savoring the bits of leaves flavored with brown sugar and honey before tiptoeing out of her room. It was time for brunch on the ship, and she didn't need her mother fussing over her dress or ruining her hair. It would be the first time she'd see Nate after his blatant courting of Serena van der Woodsen at the gala. And she'd rather not have Eleanor shoving their flimsy relationship down her throat. Blair quietly shut the door behind her. As she turned to walk down the hallway, she was stopped by grunts and groans coming from the other end of it. Blair gasped at the sight before her.

It was Chuck Bass, dressed only in his black slacks from the ball, his dress shirt shamelessly pushed open. She could easily see the planes of his chest, the bit of hair curled there. Chuck held a girl against the wall, a writhing busty little thing. The harlot was flushed, her white nightgown riding up to her thighs as Chuck kissed her neck. Blair gulped, suddenly paralyzed. It wasn't like her to just stand by and watch the sexual escapades of others. But she couldn't help but be entranced by the way he held her. He shamelessly shoved his fingers through her hair, dropping his other hand to her hip.

Blair bit her lip, unable to look away. The kisses she'd shared with Nathaniel had always been chaste and polite. She couldn't ever remember panting for breath on the brink of insanity or throwing her head back in upmost pleasure. But now – her skin tingled with an ache that longed to be touched that way. It was just sinful.

The thought of it sent a flush over her skin.

"Don't go," the girl begged, tugging at his shirt collar.

"But I must," Chuck teased. He gently turned the girl around and pushed her through the doorway behind her. He kissed her once, a peck on the corner of her mouth, before shutting the door. And heading straight for Blair. She gasped, quickly spinning on her heel. She couldn't let him see her there. She didn't want anyone to think that Blair Waldorf was some sort of voyeur who just –

"Ms. Waldorf?" Blair froze, cursing under her breath. She couldn't run now. She'd just be greeted with some sarcastic remark when she saw him at brunch in a half hour. She took a deep breath before turning to face him. Chuck was awfully close to her now, nearly a step away.

"Good morning," she chirped as if she'd just run into him.

"My, my," Chuck smirked, glancing down at the blush on her cheeks. "Where you watching me, Ms. Waldorf?"

Blair narrowed her eyes. "I was _not _– "

"Because if I'd known, I would have invited you to join us," he drawled, inching a bit closer to her. Blair's eyes widened, and she distanced herself.

"_Mr. Bass_," she hissed, "I demand some respect. And besides, I was doing none of the sort."

"I beg to differ," Chuck replied. "But don't worry. It shall be our little secret."

Blair stiffened, suddenly infuriated. "Think whatever you want. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a brunch to attend."

Chuck stopped her before she could walk away. He placed a firm hand on her small of her back. Blair parted her lips, instinctively falling into his touch. "Allow me to escort you," Chuck whispered, coming up behind her. It was then that Blair regained some of her balance, remembering that he'd been touching the other girl just a few moments ago.

"I'm just fine on my own," she huffed, pulling away. "_You _should worry about getting yourself in order." She gestured to his open shirt and wrinkled pants before glancing up at the amused expression on his face. He was infuriatingly cocky, with a grin that taunted without an ounce of regret.

"As you wish, Ms. Waldorf," Chuck smirked, kneeling into a faux courtesy. He turned to walk in the direction he'd come. "I'll see you at brunch." When he turned the corner into the other hallway, Blair let out the long breath she'd been holding and unclenched the balled-up fists at her sides. She sighed again, continuing down the hall. Just as she was about to board the lift up to the dining room, she ran straight into a slumped, shady figure perched against the flowered wallpaper.

"_Excuse me_," Blair hissed, pushing the strange man away from her. "You ought to find another place to waste your time. Some of us have places to be."

"I'm sorry, Miss," the man pleaded. "I didn't see you there."

"I can't imagine that you would have," Blair murmured. She glanced down at his dirty pants and ripped shirt and grimaced. "Are you _lost_? This floor is First Class."

"I know," the man said. "I do apologize. I'm just looking for somebody. Maybe you can help me."

"I'm sure that I could," Blair said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure that I'd actually like to."

The man ignored her rude comment, continuing to speak. "I'm Daniel Humphrey. You can call me Dan." Blair stared at him with blank eyes, refusing to acknowledge his introduction. He took the hint and quickly got to his point. "A few months ago, I met this amazing woman in Liverpool. She was just…a dream. The minute I saw her, I swore that I'd follow her to the ends of the Earth. And I know that she's aboard this ship."

Blair rolled her eyes, showing little interest in a romantic tale that didn't involve her. "Find someone else to bother with your pathetic love story."

"Wait," Dan called. "Maybe you know her."

"I know _everyone_," Blair sighed, pausing at the entrance of the lift. "You on the other hand - "

"Her name is Serena van der Woodsen," he interrupted, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. Blair stopped, and her lips immediately curved into a smile.

"_Really_?" Blair asked. This was too good to be true. Serena would be socially exiled when the rest of them found out about her gallivanting with a peasant. Blair grinned. _And what would Nate think?_ "Come along, Daniel," Blair said, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow. Dan frowned, following her into the lift.

"Where are we going?"

"You're escorting me to brunch," Blair replied, dumbing down the tone of her voice. "I think we can find what you're looking for there."

Dan nodded, somewhat satisfied by her answer. "But shouldn't I change first? Make myself more…presentable?"

Blair glanced down at his tattered clothing, layer upon layer of ill-fitting stained smocks, a ripped cap atop his shaggy head of hair. Her smile was sinister, her words bubbling toxic. "No. I'll need you exactly as you are."

:::

"Chuck, it's so good to see you," Isabel Coates swooned as Chuck came to sit across from her at the brunch table. Chuck winked at her as he set his napkin down on his lap, barely noticing as she flicked her thin hair over her shoulder, practically thrusting her chest out at him. Usually, he'd think up some clever remark, flirt with her a little. But he was far too distracted by the image of a beautiful, flushed brunette, one with a wicked little tongue.

His sudden infatuation with Blair Waldorf was unsettling. He'd only met the girl two days ago, and she was suddenly all he could think about. He'd tried to distract himself by sleeping with one of the mistresses he'd met at the gala, nibbling a bitter cane to ease his sweet tooth. But it was useless. It was _Blair's _face he'd seen as he moved over the girl last night. Chuck coughed, his thoughts interrupted by a firm pat on his back. He looked up just in time to see Nate sink down beside him.

"Good morning, Archibald," Chuck drawled, handing his best friend a silver flask under the table. Nate gratefully took it, pouring a bit of whiskey into his orange juice.

"Is it?" Nate huffed, frowning.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Nathaniel," Chuck insisted, snatching the flask back. He poured the rest of its contents into his own drink. "I wasn't born yesterday. You're clearly perturbed."

Nathaniel groaned. "I've mucked things up with Blair. All because Serena van der Woodsen threw herself at me all night."

"_Threw _herself?" Chuck repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly what I saw."

"If Blair asks – "

"If I ask what?" Blair interrupted, slinking up behind them. Chuck and Nate nearly jumped from their seats. Chuck almost stood to greet her, his lips pursing as they sought out her round cheek before he remembered that it was Nathaniel's job to do that. He looked away as Nate stood to kiss his fiancé.

"Blair, you're here," Nate murmured, offering the seat on his other side. But Blair brisked past it, opting to sit next to Isabel at the other end of the table.

"Of course I'm here," she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Nate shrugged, glancing down at his hands. "You ran off quite early last night."

"Yes, well, I saw something that left me a bit ill," Blair replied, holding his gaze. Chuck glanced at the two of them, trying to hold back a chuckle. Nate cleared his throat, nervously fixing his collar. The act was so boyish – it forced Blair to wonder how he and his best friend could possibly be the same age. With his chiseled jaw, smooth demeanor, and hard eyes, Chuck could pass for nearly five years his senior.

"I would've escorted you to brunch," Nate murmured, "had you called on me."

"Don't worry," Blair said. "Someone else was happy to do the job. Oh Daniel, stop dawdling by the door. Come join us." Dan walked into the room, smiling nervously at the posh group of people in front of him. He took the seat next to Blair, much to Isabel's disdain. Nate narrowed his eyes at the strange man, frowning at his clothing. And Chuck was filled with a sudden inexplicable feeling that could only be compared to – jealousy?

"Who's this?" Chuck asked, unable to contain himself.

"This is – "

"_Daniel_?" No one had noticed Serena enter the room with her mother, Lillian van der Woodsen. The blonde looked more demure in the morning light, her eyes were tired, her hair in a tangle at the nape of her neck. Eleanor Waldorf and a few others followed behind them, taking their seats around the table. Blair sat smugly in her seat, intent on watching the spectacle unfurl before her.

"Serena, I – I've been looking for you," Daniel said, standing up. Serena looked shell-shocked as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a highly inappropriate embrace. The rest of the table gasped and whispered as Serena tried to subtly pull away.

"Dan," Serena murmured. "What are you doing here?" She nervously glanced at a disgruntled Nate, and then at her livid mother.

"You told me you were heading off to New York," Dan shrugged. "Miss Waldorf here was kind enough to tell me where you where."

Blair grinned, poking her fork at the biscuit in front of her. "Well, I was just so curious about your new friend, Serena. He runs so far from our usual circle. I was wondering how you managed to keep him hidden all this time."

"Yes, I'm _sure _those were your intentions," Serena hissed, taking her seat as far away from Dan as possible. Dan, looking extremely dejected, came to sit next to Blair again.

"I'm sorry," Blair murmured innocently. "Did I do something wrong? Is there a problem with Daniel being here?"

Serena frowned, glancing at Dan. "Of course not. I just – "

"Serena, what is the meaning of this?" Lillian murmured under her breath. "I pulled you out of the reformatory because I thought you'd changed_._"

"I _have _changed, Mother," Serena whispered. The rest of the table played oblivious, digging into their crepes and eavesdropping over the low hum of meaningless small talk. Blair was overjoyed with her handy work. Serena's mother was clearly furious with Serena. Hopefully, she'd get a one-way ticket back to England, _far _away from the wedding plans in New York.

Blair paused, her eyes widening. _Wedding_. She'd been pulling Serena away from Nathaniel for the pure rush of concocting a good scandal. But now – now there was nothing standing in the way of being stuck with him for the rest of her life. Blair glanced at her fiancé, who was absent-mindedly chewing on a piece of apple sausage. She lost her breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small dining room. She clutched at her seat, leaning over in her chair.

"Are you alright?" Daniel whispered, placing a hand on her arm.

Blair gasped and flinched away. "Keep your hands to yourself. My need for you has expired. So you can refrain from even so much as a glance in my direction." She pushed away from the table, scraping her chair back as she excused herself. Blair pushed through the double doors, gasping for breath in the empty hallway.

"I can't do this," she breathed in panic, speaking to the dull paint on the wall in front of her. She held onto her stomach. "I can't – "

"That was quite a show in there, Miss Waldorf," Chuck called, interrupting her panic. Blair spun around, raising a hand to her chest.

"Stop _following _me," Blair hissed. "I want to be alone."

Chuck dropped his smirk, staring at her with concerned eyes. "I do apologize," he said. "I only meant to see if you were okay."

"Why isn't Nathaniel doing that?"

Chuck flinched, glancing back at the closed doors. "He – "

"Might I guess?" Blair interrupted, rolling her eyes. "He's more concerned with the lovely Ms. Van der Woodsen."

Chuck stared down at the ground. "He does care for you."

"But that isn't enough, is it?" Blair asked, turning away. She expected Chuck to give up, retreat to the brunch. But she heard footsteps until he was standing right beside her.

"Hypocrisy isn't an attractive quality, Ms. Waldorf," Chuck whispered. Blair's eyes widened.

"I beg your pardon?"

"As you complain about Nathaniel's lack of _passion _towards your upcoming nuptials, I can't help but notice that you don't seem so pleased either."

"You don't know a thing about me," Blair spat. But her voice faltered. Chuck looked at her curiously. He raised a hand to graze her arm, sliding up to the sleeve of her dress. Blair held her breath, overcome by the sensation of his skin against hers.

"I know that look," Chuck persisted. "When a woman wants more than she's given. When something doesn't quite satisfy her." Blair bit her lip and risked a glance at him. He gripped her shoulder and pulled her to him, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"And what are you saying, Chuck?" she challenged, feeling a stroke of bravery. "What do you intend to do about that?"

"Why, Miss Waldorf," Chuck whispered, leaning in to press his cheek against hers. Blair froze as his lips brushed the underside of her ear, breath fanning over her skin. "Should I consider that an open invitation?" Blair closed her eyes, vision swimming in white as he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck. Suddenly, a burst of loud conversation pulled them apart. The door to the dining room had opened, Daniel Humphrey walking through it. His eyes widened when he saw Chuck and Blair.

"I – "

"You never saw this," Chuck interrupted. Blair recoiled, flinching at his icy tone. "If you value your cheap ticket to New York at all, you _will _keep your mouth shut." Blair gasped at the harshness in his voice, the sudden fury in his eyes. As his features twisted, Blair recalled a showing of _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, a brief little stage show that her father had taken her to when she was young.

"Of course," Dan stammered, arms raised. "I saw nothing." He tripped over his feet as he fled the room. Chuck took a deep breath before turning to Blair with a small smile on his face.

"That was – "

"_Despicable_," Blair finished.

"Excuse me?" Chuck sputtered. His advances were rarely rejected. No, they were _never _rejected. Until now.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she hissed. "Nathaniel is your best friend, and you're shamelessly taking advantage of his fiancé."

"Your memory must be fleeting, Miss Waldorf," Chuck argued, suddenly enraged. "_You_ were – "

"Archibald," Blair interrupted. Chuck frowned in confusion, holding her gaze as she went on to explain, "You might as well start calling me Mrs. Archibald. Because that's all I'll ever be to you."

:::

Blair was thirteen when her mother first sent her to etiquette classes with Madame Durant out by the countryside. The lessons were dreadfully boring, held in a musky little chateau that smelled of eau de toilette. She detested the plain clothes she was forced to wear like all of the other girls, sky blue maiden gowns. The one thing that set her apart was the violet ribbon threaded into her hair – a gift from her father when he had returned from France. She wore it as a queen would wear her crown, holding her head high as the other girls flocked to her.

After two months of tea pouring and debutante rehearsals, Blair had established herself as their leader. The girls followed her around like sheep, practically stepping on the hem of her dress to be close to her.

And then Serena van der Woodsen ruined it all.

"Ladies," Madame Durant had called, "we have a new addition to our class. Please allow me to introduce Ms. Van der Woodsen." Blair could feel the eyes leave her to set upon the blonde in front of them. Serena had been wearing a lovely pink dress, a bright contrast to their bland uniforms. Blair pursed her lips as a hush fell over the room.

"Blair, you didn't tell us of a new student," the girls had whispered. Blair frowned, hands clenched tightly in her lap. How was she supposed to know?

Easily. She was supposed to know everything.

"I didn't – " Blair started, racking her brain. "I mean, I didn't even bother. Just look at her. It's embarrassing, really. Her dress isn't properly fitted, her hair is a horrific tangle." Blair reached up to touch her own silky brown curls. "She's absolutely irrelevant."

The girls were quick to nod in their assent, knowing it was wiser to obey their queen, rather than submitting to their curiosity about a foreigner. They shunned Serena straight away, keeping her out of their weaving circle, leaving her with the stale pastries at brunch. Blair delighted in the blonde's isolation. But there was still something that unnerved her. She watched the way the other girls smiled at her nemesis, stolen glances with moony eyes.

They feared Blair.

But they loved Serena.

And so Blair gave in, made the first move and invited Serena to tea. She figured that it was best to keep her enemy close, to gain the girls' favors by easing their curiosity herself, once and for all. Serena was overjoyed by the invitation, and she'd grasped Blair into a hug that knocked the breath out of her.

"This is so great, Blair," Serena had cooed. "We're going to be the best of friends."

Blair had smiled politely, agreeing for the sake of the others in the room. But, inside, her blood boiled. One day, her time would come. Blair Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen would _never_ be friends.

:::

"Blair? Hello," Serena greeted, casting a tall shadow over the bench Blair was seated on. Blair frowned up at the blonde, shutting her book with a tight snap. There was no use in trying to finish her novel now. The people on the ship's deck were a mixed crowd of loud business men, chattering old women, and screaming children. She'd already been too distracted to finish a page, and now Serena had come to finish the job.

"Do you need something?" Blair asked, an eyebrow raised. As always, the blonde looked completely frazzled, her blonde hair coming undone from her pins, a tiny rip at the hem of her dress.

"I wanted to thank you," Serena said.

"What could you possibly have to thank _me _for?"

"I know that it wasn't your intention," Serena started, fiddling with her thumbs, "but I'm so glad that you brought Daniel along for brunch. It really opened my eyes, Blair. To how I've been living. I've always run away from my problems, and I deserved to have my past catch up with me."

Blair glared at her with blank eyes, clearly unaffected. "As much as I'd hate to interrupt your lackluster epiphany, what makes you think that I care?"

Serena ignored Blair's tone, shooting her a small smile. "May I sit?"

"If you must."

They sat in silence for a moment. Serena stared out at the others on the deck, basking under the sun. Blair tensed in her seat, finding it impossible to be comfortable when she was that close to the other girl. She let out a long sigh, and the air whizzed straight through her clenched teeth. Finally, Serena spoke.

"I've always admired you, Blair."

Blair paused, risking a glance at Serena. "_You_? Why?"

"You're strong," Serena explained. "Even when we were young, you held your own in a way that I never could. I've always been lost, and you're the most grounded person I've ever met. People look up to you. They trust you." Blair relaxed, registering the compliment, turning the words over in her head. She couldn't even fathom a response, so she remained quiet and stoic, as she usually was. Serena tried again, shifting on the bench to face her. "I never meant to take Nathaniel away from you."

Blair scoffed, a grim mask slipping over her vulnerable expression. "You didn't _take _Nathaniel away from me." She raised her hand, and they both stared at the ruby ring. "I'm going to be his wife, and _you're_ going to be alone."

"Take was the wrong word," Serena amended, her voice only a murmur.

Blair let out an exasperated breath. "Why are you _here_, Miss van der Woodsen?"

"I only meant that I had no idea that you were engaged to Nathaniel when I met him in Liverpool," Serena explained. "He was only a distraction, and I was quite the wreck. I suppose that I needed a friend, and I found him instead."

"Right," Blair said, her voice monotone.

"At the ball, I told him that I was done, that I had forgotten it all," Serena sighed. "But he doesn't seem to understand."

Blair let out a sharp chuckle, surprising even herself. "Yes, well, Nathaniel isn't exactly the brightest star, now is he?"

Serena laughed too, daring to smile at Blair. "No, he isn't." Serena shook her head, grinned at the floor. "I know that you don't care to be my friend."

"I didn't say – "

"But I can be yours," Serena tried. "I've seen the way you've looked during these past few days. Yours isn't the face of that headstrong young girl I met in etiquette lessons." Blair eyes widened for a split second, just long enough to answer Serena's question.

"You can tell me," Serena continued, urging her on. "You can trust me."

And so she did. The words slipped from Blair's lips, every sentence easing the weight on her shoulders until her head was empty, until her mind was at ease. She told Serena of her father's affair, of the sordid deal that her mother made with the Archibalds. She told her of dreams she'd had, the nightmares. In them, she was always tied down or held in a cage. _Trapped_. "I can't go through with this," Blair breathed. "It'll be the end of him, of me. I'll end up a pathetic divorcee, chain smoking at a dirty café in Europe until I die." Serena listened, placing a gentle hand on Blair's shoulder. She tensed under the blonde's touch, uncomfortable with the sudden bizarre friendship that blossomed in the past hour.

"You can call the wedding off," Serena suggested. "You're eighteen years old. You can do whatever you please."

Blair rolled her eyes, shrugging away. "That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard. It doesn't matter how old I am." Blair shook her head, staring out at the horizon with sad eyes. "I'll never be free."

"Blair – "

"Forget that I said those things. It was a silly fantasy, a wave of emotion," Blair said, waving her hand in front of her. "Nathaniel is my fate." Her eyes went black, her neck stiff.

Serena nodded. "Of course. If that's what you want - "

"It's what I need," Blair corrected. Her gaze softened, and she turned to Serena with a small smile. "And now it's your turn. Tell me that this Humphrey of yours is at least good in bed. It can't be that _musk _of his that gets you going."

:::

Hours later, Nate was choking on his food, staring at the sight before him in disbelief. Serena and Blair had just burst into the afternoon luncheon, arms linked as they spoke to each other in hushed whispers. He blinked, making sure that his vision wasn't betraying him.

"Well," Chuck laughed. "I see that I've found my source of entertainment for the afternoon." Nate shook his head, frowning at his best friend in disdain. The two girls came to sit in front of the gentlemen, smiles lingering on their red lips.

"Hello, darling," Blair said to Nathaniel, batting her lashes with a coy smile. She spared a glance at Chuck, her mouth setting in a straight line again. "And Charles."

"Miss Waldorf," Chuck smirked, his eyes steadily raking over her until she flushed scarlet under his gaze. Serena observed the two of them quietly, smiling to herself. "I'm glad to see that I've returned to your good graces."

Blair rolled her eyes, sipping a glass of water. "I'm afraid that I don't know what you're speaking of."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. "Have I missed something?"

Chuck shook his head, refusing to look away from Blair. "Don't tire out that fragile mind of yours, Nathaniel. It's nothing."

"I couldn't agree more," Blair added, narrowing her eyes in warning. Silence washed over the table as they began to eat. Serena pursed her lips, holding back laughter at Blair's disgruntled expression.

"So," Nathaniel started. "I see that you two have become quite amiable."

Blair and Serena glanced at each other. "Ms. van der Woodsen and I have become fast friends. It turns out that we have a number of things in common."

Nathaniel coughed. "Fantastic."

:::

They were joined an hour later by a stern older man in an olive suit. Chuck stood up to greet him, shaking his hand and offering him a seat at the table. Blair watched them exchange a few words. _They must be related_, she thought_. _There was something about the mischievous glint in the elder's eyes that reminded her so much of Chuck.

"I'd like to introduce you all to Jack Bass," Chuck smirked, patting the man on the back. "He's my dearest uncle and my father's solution to setting me loose in New York. He's here to manage my affairs."

"_All _of his affairs," Jack smirked. "Well gentlemen, I must say that I'm impressed. You have me in the company of two stunning women." He reached out to take Serena's hand, placing a chaste kiss on her fingers before turning to Blair. "And you must be Nathaniel's fiancé." He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and she shifted under his gaze.

"Your food is in front of you, Mr. Bass," Blair all but hissed. "Not over here." Serena was the first one to burst out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth. Nathaniel grinned at his fiancé with new eyes, appraising ones. And Chuck raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed by her brazen words.

"You're a spicy one," Jack winked. Blair nudged Serena under the table, and they exchanged an eye roll.

"She is," Nathaniel laughed, smiling at her. "I'm lucky to have her." Blair glanced up at him in surprise, setting her fork down. Chuck tensed, his eyes darting back and forth between them. He wanted to be happy for his friend, happy for Blair, but there was something unsettling him. The Waldorf girl was under his skin, in his head. He'd never met a girl whose wit and intelligence matched his own. And now there she was, all wrapped up in a sultry little brunette. He'd never wanted anything more in his life.

"Speaking of the upcoming nuptials," Jack said. "It won't be long for you now, Chuck."

Blair looked at Chuck now, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "Not anytime soon, Jack. Enough of the – "

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Did you forget the terms of your agreement?"

"What agreement?" Serena chimed in.

"Dear old Charles was allowed to launch his hotel branch in New York on the condition that he marry by the time he turns twenty." Blair parted her lips, staring down at her plate. Chuck had made it seem as if he was though he was his own man. But he was just like the rest of them, slaving his days away, being pushed and pulled like a puppet.

"I've taken the liberty of finding a suitable bride for you," Jack continued. "She'll be waiting in New York, so that you can properly court her. Your father is shelling out the money for ceremony preparations as we speak."

"_What_?" Chuck spat, shoving his plate away.

"Chuck, calm down," Nathaniel murmured.

"How can I be _calm _when he's talking about my life as if I weren't even here?" Blair glanced up, taking in his enraged features. She felt a pang of sympathy for him. He'd taken the words right out of her mouth.

Jack ignored them all, continuing to eat his lunch. "You all know Georgina Sparks, don't you?" he asked, smiling contentedly.

"That wretched wench?" Chuck asked. "She's had an obsession with me for years."

"She's horrid," Blair added. "I find her – '

"Abhorrent," Chuck finished.

"Now now, Chuck," Jack smirked, patting his nephew on the shoulder. "That's no way to speak of your bride-to-be."

:::

"Someone should check on him," Serena murmured. Chuck had abandoned the table a half hour ago, storming away from his uncle in a fit of fury after they had it out about his arrangement. He'd almost looked murderous when Jack pulled out the diamond ring Chuck was to present to Georgina upon his arrival in New York.

"I'll go talk sense into him," Jack shrugged, getting out of his seat.

"I think you've done _enough_," Blair said, glaring at him. "I can go – "

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a walk around the deck," Nate cut in, reaching for her hand. Blair paused, hesitating.

"I can go check on Chuck," Serena said. "Our families have been close for years. I can try to get through to him. Besides, you and Nathaniel can use this time to speak." Blair narrowed her eyes as her hand fell into Nate's, mouthing _traitor _to Serena. She simply shrugged back at her new friend, waving her off. Nate led her out into the dim sunlight, where a number of couples waited to watch the sunset.

"I've taken advantage of you," Nate began, grasping her hands in his.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We were forced into this marriage, and I've been childish about it," Nate explained. "I shouldn't have fled to Liverpool upon our engagement, Blair. I regret it wholeheartedly. But I know that I'm ready now, ready to be with you, ready to have you as my wife." Blair was paralyzed, her hands growing clammy under his touch, her head aching. She suddenly thought of Chuck Bass, _of all people_, and it forced her to jerk away.

"Nate, please don't – "

"Don't say anything, Blair," Nate pleaded, his hands skimming the corset around her waist. "Just let me – I'd like to kiss you." Blair nodded absently, knowing that it was her obligation. She couldn't shy away from her fiancé. That would be wrong. But _this _was wrong, too. His lips were nice and gentle, but she could barely force herself to purse her own, to join him in the kiss. When he pulled away, she smiled politely, unable to meet his eyes. Because his were gleaming with love, with hope, with a _future _that they were to share the moment they docked in New York.

And Blair Waldorf would never share in those sentiments.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello lovelies. Just to clear up some confusion: This is, indeed, _Ever Ours_. It was a story I published a few months ago, and I've just re-published it and changed the title. I was three chapters in before I decided to take it down and work on it a bit more before continuing. I'm glad to see that a bunch of you like where it's headed. Please continue to review and let me know what you think/your predictions for chapters to come (I adore those). Also, I was nominated for a Gossip Girl Blog Award (Best Fanfiction Tumblr). I would totally appreciate your votes. My tumblr url is chair-bassdorf.


	3. Fools Rush In

**3. Fools Rush In**

He was undressing her.

Removing her clothes.

_Unravelling her sanity._

Blair was vaguely aware that the lighting didn't seem quite right, that the hazy glow wrapped around Charles Bass as he hovered over her was one of dreams. But none of that mattered because every place he touched her flamed in an intoxicating burn, scalding though her skin, igniting her bones, chilling her blood. He was smug as she fell apart under his deft movements, lips pulling the skin beneath her ear, hands splaying out across the tops of her thighs, thumbs pressing into her lace undergarments, threatening to go _under_. And he said her name, said it again and again as if he were acquainting it with his lips. And it excited Blair, this simple act of reverence.

When he bedded whores, she imagined that Chuck never said their names.

_"Blair_."

Ripped lace, her hair caught in calloused fingertips, chest wet with sweat.

_"Blair_."

Candlelight danced before her closed eyes, bruised lips allowed her moans an escape, and his trousers joined her dress on the floor.

_"Blair – "_

"Miss Blair!"

Blair's eyes darted open, her parted mouth snapping shut as the image of Chuck was replaced by the disapproving features of a scolding, tired maid. Dorota stood above her with a tray of breakfast, the mixed fruits that Blair enjoyed to nibble on balanced beside a bowl of oatmeal she would never eat. As Dorota turned to set the wooden platter down on Blair's bedside, Blair let out a choked gasp. Her hand, as she horrifyingly realized, was trapped under white lace, sliding across her own wet heat, right between her legs. _Oh God. Had she been – _

_In her sleep?_

_Dreaming about – _

She quickly snatched her hand up, shutting her eyes in self-disgust as she wiped a dripping finger on her bare thigh, grateful for the cover of the thick duvet draped over her. Blair put on her best doe-eyed grin as Dorota cast a final look at her. And then –

"God is _always _watching, Miss Blair."

And apparently so was Dorota.

The dream made Blair sick. She desperately tried to pin it on the waves of the Atlantic crashing against the Onslaught outside, but her own fearsome brown eyes betrayed her. Because she had no room for indiscretions, not even imaginary ones. She'd been dreaming of partaking in _adultery _with Chuck Bass merely hours after kissing her husband-to-be, and it was despicable, _unacceptable_. After Dorota fled to her corridors at the lowest levels of the ship, Blair had stared up at her ceiling for ten long minutes, pinching the skin of her elbow until she drew blood, forcing herself to erase Chuck and replace him with Nate.

_Not hazel, but blue._

_Not wicked, but soft._

_Not cigarettes and sin, just reality._

"I am marrying Nathaniel," Blair whispered. She stomped out the persistently nagging voice in her mind that whispered, _Blair Bass_, and hissed, "Blair _Archibald_."

"Did the sea levels make you go as mad as I am?"

Blair startled, sitting up in bed as a flurry of long blonde hair whipped around her room. She frowned as Serena pulled open the small wooden wardrobe at the front of her room and began lugging a colorful array of fabrics from it. She yelped as a pink overcoat hit her head, sending her brown curls in a tumbling mess around her face.

"_What _do you think you're doing?" Blair hissed, shoving away her covers. Serena giggled as Blair traipsed after her, picking up clothes in the wake of her miniature tornado. As a child, she had only ever been around her mother and, of course, her followers. But if this was what having a close friend was, this complete lack of _boundaries_, then she wasn't sure she liked it.

Serena, on the other hand, was thrilled.

"Here, put this on," Serena said, holding up a pretty green sundress to Blair's tiny form. Blair grabbed the material before it could fall to the floor, and she frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I'm kidnapping you," Serena announced, throwing her arms up in the air. Blair hushed her, eyes rolling as her mother's snores seeped in from their adjoining room. Serena quieted, her blue eyes lit up with excitement as she leaned forward. "We only have two days left on this ship. And I am not going to spend another hour sipping cold tea and pricking my fingers with needles…"

"And I'm being punished for your incompetence," Blair stated, her voice toneless. But still, she slipped her arms through the green sleeves, flushing and turning away when she slipped her nightgown off. The moment she pushed the last button into it's eyelet, Serena began to work on her hair, pulling strands under loops and securing them with pins.

"Don't be so angry all of the time, B," Serena teased, pinching at her sides. Blair rolled her eyes, holding in a smile as she wriggled away. "We're going to the smoking parlor." Blair's eyes widened, and she whipped around, slapping Serena's hand away.

"Have you lost your mind?" Blair hissed. "Absolutely not."

The blonde sighed, taking Blair's arms in her hands. "Why not?"

"Because it's…inappropriate," Blair said, lifting her chin. "Why would I want to sit in a smoky, smelly room surrounded by boring talk of stocks and Cubans?"

"It won't be so boring if _we're _present, now will it?" Serena smiled, taking Blair's hand. "You're going to be married off three months. And God only knows that I'll be next." Her expression dampened as the blonde's mind wandered to her own mother's stone-cold expression. "We can spend the rest of our lives weaving baskets, but right now, I'd like to have some fun." Blair hesitated, eyes narrowed. And then Serena whispered, "Your mother will most certainly disapprove."

Blair smiled, her light brown eyes widening in silent glee. "Let's go."

:::

"So, it's settled," Chuck smirked, blowing out rings of smoke through pursed lips. "I am an unmatched champion, and you have not even one bill to wipe your tears with." On his knee, a tipsy Isabel shifted and giggled, making it no secret that her target of lust was Chuck Bass. It was no place for a supposed society girl like herself, but she was no lady. And she was of no significance.

"Oh, Chuck," Isabel whispered into his ear as the table of men looked on, amused. "You've got such an _excellent _hand." Nathaniel laughed at the scene, obligingly handing over his share of the bet to Chuck, poker chips spilling over the alcohol-cluttered tablecloth. The other men at the table followed subsequently, Carter Baizen already digging in his pockets to place another bet, Aaron Rose heedlessly sipping his glass of champagne, and Gabriel Edwards making use of his counterfeit tokens. Finally, Jack Bass made it to the table, winking at Isabel before taking a seat next to Chuck.

"I'm in the game, Nephew," the elder Bass said, loosening his necktie.

Chuck rolled his eyes at the intrusion. "I look forward to spending your earnings."

"Perhaps you can purchase a trinket for your new wife," Jack retorted. "I hear that she really knows how to put a man in debt."

"If you're going to torture us with your insolent commentary," Chuck drawled, shuffling his deck. "At least make it interesting." He dealt the cards, suddenly annoyed at the bouncing bit of weight on his knee. He shrugged Isabel off, and she squealed, pouting as she sank onto a leather chaise in the corner. But his uncle was relentless, turning his attention to Nate now.

"That wife of yours sure is a prize, Nathaniel," Jack remarked, stroking his chin. "Tell me, have you had a chance to sample the goods before your upcoming nuptials? She's demure, that one. But those breasts are…" Jack's words cut off as he whistled. Chuck fumed, his face blazing red. Before Nate even had a chance to react, cards were flying across the room and Jack's collar was scrunched up in Chuck's fingers. He slammed his uncle up against the wall as the rest of the parlor quieted.

"You don't talk about her," Chuck spat. "Do you understand?" He released Jack, sending the amused man to the floor.

"My, my," Jack chuckled with a dark look in his eyes. His eyebrows slanted as he returned to his seat, knocking back Chuck's glass of whiskey. "So defensive over a woman who isn't even your betrothed. I'm sure that Nathaniel is grateful to have such a good _pal_." Chuck cleared his throat as Nate caught his eye. Jack grinned again, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Chuck could hear. "I suggest you remember our arrangement, lest I decide to alert Bart of your straying eye."

"_What _is going on?" Isabel giggled, her cocktail sloshing over the rim of her glass.

"Nothing," Chuck rasped, cutting her off. "Baizen, the cards?" As he reached out for the stack, he felt a smaller hand touch his arm, and he inhaled a whiff of sweet perfume. He nearly choked on his drink when Blair's hip brushed his elbow, her lips forming a small smile when she passed him by.

"Hello, Bass," Blair murmured, confused at the delighted laugh Jack let out when she entered the room. "What's the matter with _you_?"

"Nothing at all," Jack said, sobering his expression. "You just have impeccable timing, my dear."

Blair narrowed her eyes, shrugging him off when she brushed her lips across Nate's cheek. He grinned at her, pulling her down to the edge of his seat with a hand on the small of her back. Blair's eyes widened at the gesture. It was so _familial_, so much like…a couple's. Blair tried to lean into him in earnest, wondering if she could do just this for the rest of her life.

But Chuck Bass, sitting across the table with that million-dollar grin of his, dared her otherwise.

"Sweetheart," Nate whispered, brushing the hair from her shoulder. "What are you doing here? You told me that you didn't like the smell of smoke getting in your hair."

"Well," Blair started, flushing when Chuck winked at her, the cigarette balanced cautiously between his full lips. "I just…" But she quickly lost Nate's attention to Serena, who had just walked into the room behind Blair, her smile brighter than she'd ever seen it. "Serena brought me here." Blair sighed as Nate nodded distractedly. He was much like a puppy, falling in love with every shiny thing placed in front of him.

"Look at who I ran into in the halls – " Serena cut off when she took note of who was in the room. Behind her, Dan Humphrey, of all people, was poking his head in with a half-hearted wave. Blair sank back on her bench, resisting a gag. She watched as Serena released his hand and skipped over to another man at the table. "_Carter_." She wrapped her arms around the blonde's neck, leaving Humphrey with his hands shoved into his pockets at the door.

"You two know each other?" Nate coughed, pointing between Carter and Serena.

"We do," Serena mused. "Our families went on a holiday in Santorini years ago." She ruffled the boy's hair, her lips dangerously close to his. "We share a mutual adoration of shrimp fritters."

"Oh," Chuck smirked. "I'm sure it was the fritters."

"Wouldn't you like to know, Bass?" Carter called, finally releasing Serena's waist. She ushered Dan in, ordering him to sit down, much to Chuck's annoyance. As he educated Humphrey on the fact that they didn't bet pennies at the table, Blair noticed the former draw out a notebook in his lap, quickly scribbling with a stubbed pencil as Chuck mocked him. She parted her lips to comment on it, but Serena cut her off, coming to sit beside her.

"What a coincidence," Serena said. "Dan and Carter, old friends, both on the same ship."

"Another one?" Blair asked, nodding at Carter. "You're unbelievable."

"I thought we were done judging each other," Serena whispered. "Besides, Carter is just a _friend_."

"You seem to have a lot of _friends_," Blair snorted, mocking her offended tone. "Someone should have a portrait done for this very moment. We can name it, _Serena's Whores_." Blair paused, enjoying her dirty joke. "Really, I do understand why you get along with Charles so well now. You should both be quarantined."

"Ugh, B. You're terrible," Serena hushed her, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of…it seems like Chuck has caught another one. _He's_ even worse than I am."

Blair frowned as Isabel massaged Chuck's shoulders across the room, her lips pressed sloppily to his ear. "Maybe we can ditch this dreadful game," Isabel whispered rather loudly. "And I can give you a tour of the tapestries in my room."

"Mr. Bass isn't available for that now. Or _ever_," Blair suddenly corrected with a sweet smile. The other men at the table were too lost in the game to catch her words, but Chuck missed nothing. He smiled, sliding Isabel's hands from his shoulders as Blair continued, "And honestly, I can't focus on the game over your _mewling_. You're not a cat, Isabel."

Chuck watched her carefully then, replaying her words in his head as she stared back at him. _Mr. Bass isn't available for that now. _He licked his lips, sensing that she wasn't referencing the fiancé waiting for him in New York. Blair's lips curved up, the blush on her cheeks flaming across her chest now.

No. She wasn't speaking of Georgina at all.

:::

Blair snuck out of her corridors later that day near midnight, long after Nathaniel had escorted her to her room, after their nightly walk, and after her mother had badgered her for the details of it over and over again. She changed into one of her white numbers, one that her mother would curl her lips at, a long ivory gown that sprouted bits of lace at her bust and tightened around every _c _and _q _of her body.

Blair found herself wandering the halls of the ship, fingertips tracing over intricately painted walls, hair loose at her shoulders. And then she came to an entrance draped with thick red curtains at the far end of the main level, slow muted jazz on the other side of it. She stepped up to the man guarding the door.

"Pardon me, Sir," Blair said. "What is this place?"

"It's our night lounge, Madame," he replied. "Victrola. Might I suggest that you try the tearoom by the captain's quarters? It's much more suitable for a lady."

Blair smiled sweetly, through pinched lips. "I don't drink tea at night." She slipped into the room, falling into a sea of tobacco smoke and the thrum of jazz music. As Blair made her way over to a seat at the bar, she noticed a familiar head of black hair, the man's shoulders squared over his drink. Her heart leapt when she realized it was Chuck. Her mind wandered to Dorota's words for a moment, her irritating warning. _God is always watching Ms. Blair. _But then she shook it off, stomping the sentence out of her mind with every step she took to the bar.

"Chuck," she murmured, placing a light hand on his arm. He jumped, startled. His eyes softened when he realized that it was her, and he gestured to the stool next to him.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Miss Waldorf," Chuck drawled, black eyes on her. "Don't you have…" He waved his hand in the air, a careless gesture that left her annoyed. "Bridesmaids to badger, floral arrangements to decide on?"

"The wedding affairs will be handled once we arrive in New York," Blair said, her voice lower than intended. When this drew no reaction from him, she let out a sharp breath, rolling her eyes up to look at the ceiling. "You may call me Blair," she corrected. "We've surpassed the formalities at this point."

"My apologies." His voice was heavy, resentful. But he emotions were fleeting, and he leered at her in the same instant. "That was quite the appearance you made earlier. And watching me in the halls…dancing with me at the banquet…If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Ugh, I'm _not – "_ Blair sighed, annoyed at having to plead her case to the man before her. But she would be polite, she would be the bigger person. It was what was expected of a Waldorf. "I do apologize for my behavior. You and I have only just met and…we were both out of line. I would appreciate it if we could just put it past us." A fake smile. "This isn't how I usually am – "

"I know exactly how you are." Chuck narrowed his eyes, getting ready to persist, but he thought better of it. "Anyway." Chuck paused, raising a finger. "As you wish, Blair. What can I get for you? A Shirley Temple?" His grin was condescending, and Blair had the insatiable urge to smack it from his face.

"Don't mock me, Chuck. It's not polite." Blair waved him away and turned to the barman herself. "One gin and tonic."

Chuck cleared his throat suddenly, her words sending a wave of inexplicable lust straight to his core. "One gin and tonic. You never cease to surprise me."

Blair smiled, running a hand through her loose curls, stretching in her seat. She felt his eyes on her, his gaze tracing the pattern of her dress. Up, down, slopes, lines. Her arm dropped to brush against his, sending a tremble straight through his body. Chuck lifted the drink to his lips to muffle his groan.

"About your uncle, and your marriage," Blair started, leaning towards him. "I never got the chance to – "

"Don't," Chuck rasped. His hand reached out of its own accord, and he laid it over hers on the counter between them. "Don't." His voice was broken when he repeated the word. She held her breath as he stroked her knuckles. "I'd rather just enjoy your company, if you don't mind." Blair nodded, worrying her bottom lip her teeth. They were silent for a moment, listening to the singer on stage. The woman was older, skin like brown sugar, her voice just as sweet.

"I used to sing like this," Blair said, closing her eyes. Chuck watched, completely enchanted, as her eyelashes cast long shadows down her cheeks like black tears. "Before Mother took the lessons away from me, told me not to waste my time with anything other than finding a husband for myself." _No_. She immediately scolded herself. _Those are the things only lovers are supposed to know._

"Why don't you go up there?" Chuck asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't be silly," she laughed, her presence lighting up the room. Chuck decided that he loved the sound, loved how she threw her head back, baring her neck to him as she giggled.

"Of course you wouldn't," he teased. Chuck tugged at a strand at her hair, just hard enough to piss her off. She frowned, taking another swig of her drink before hopping from her seat.

"Care to bet on that theory?"

"Not if it's one that I'm bound to lose," Chuck said, incredulous.

"Guard my drink, Charles," Blair smirked. He watched her hips sway like a pendulum as she made her way to the stage, whispering to the quartet. He parted his lips in amazement as she took the center, soulful lyrics dripping from her plump lips in the sweetest tune that Chuck had ever heard. Blair kept her eyes on him while she sang, and like a siren, he was her Odysseus, drawn straight into the sea of her voice. They could have been alone in that lounge for all he noticed. And he decided another thing – that this, this was just for him. The way her front arched up, her head thrown back.

Two strangers.

_Not Nathaniel's best friend._

_Or his fiancé._

He raised a hand, clawing at his chest. Something felt strange, _unbalanced_. His heart had always been an organ of technicalities, one that he avoided as much as possible.

And now it was thumping against his chest at an alarming rate. Chuck didn't like the feeling. He might have combusted.

When it was over, Blair came down from the stage, smiling at the round of applause. Men whistled at her along the way back to Chuck, frowning when they noticed that she wasn't alone, murmuring _lucky bastard _under their breaths. Blair flicked her hair back at them, her eyes set on Chuck, her mind set on him too. For a moment, she pretended she was his, and he allowed it, sliding a quick arm around her waist.

"Come with me," he whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her to one of the private rooms at the front of the lounge. He shut the door behind them, twisting the lock as she threw herself onto the chaise. He followed after her.

They were only an inch away when Chuck whispered, "You were…captivating up there."

She swallowed, shifting closer until her leg was flush against his. They were silent, watching each other, waiting for the other to decide the rules for this new game.

"I can't marry Nathaniel," Blair finally murmured, her voice breaking. She wanted to bite her tongue, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. She'd pretend she was drunk, she'd be a girl like Serena or Isabel, she'd undo this in the morning, when the shadows weren't cloaking the horribly terrific feeling of Chuck's thumb brushing her bare skin. "That isn't what I want."

Chuck flinched at the admission, pulling his head back to look at her. "And what do you want?" he asked.

Blair stood up, moving to stand in front of him. He was paralyzed as he watched her undo the buttons of her dress, letting it slide to the floor and pool around her feet. He'd seen many girls do this for him, red and black but never white, never Blair. He took in the flushed skin under her corset and garters and knew that nothing had ever or _would ever _compare to the sight before him.

She was perfection.

"I want you to touch me," Blair said, her voice hoarse as she stepped between his legs.

Chuck swallowed. "He's my best friend."

Blair shook her head. Eyes closed, ears unhearing. She bent over, grasping his face in her hands, her thumb running over his bottom lip, her eyes on the border of hope and desperation. "I want to feel…"

"Feel what?" His words snapped, his tone bit.

"_Free_."

He nodded, understanding completely. "Are you sure?"

Blair shot him a small smile, taking his hand and place it over her chest. She blushed as she slid it down, never having been one to attempt seduction before. This was for a girl she'd never be, and she was –

"Beautiful," he whispered when he undid the laces of her corset and let the fabric fall to the floor. He traced over the dips and curves of her body in amazement, daring to press his lips to her sweet skin, tongue slipping out to taste her stomach. Chuck stood with her, and she tugged at his coat, his shirt in desperation. She closed her eyes against his kiss, crying out when her bare chest brushed against his. Blair ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, to the curve of his shoulder blades in a mad rush to discover every inch of him.

And then they were falling down against the plush pillows. Blair's eyes rolled back as he nipped at her neck, teeth raking over her porcelain skin. He took the discarded ribbon from her dress and traipsed it across her skin, tickling the curve between her breats.

"_Yes_," Blair moaned, sinking her fingers into his hair, tugging on it. And he knew that this would be _different._ She wrapped her legs around him, using her feet to shove his trousers off of him. He would not take her, would not steal her virtue tonight. Blair Waldorf was to be cherished, stripped down slowly. Chuck pushed aside the fact that he was not her husband, that she was not his, that he would never have the opportunity to discover her as he pleased.

He pretended.

And so he reached down to slip his fingers inside of her, first one and then two. He groaned as she contracted around him, her throbbing clit finding the curve of his palm as she threw her head back in raw ecstasy. He pressed his lips to her ear, soothing her whimpers, telling her exactly how wet she was, and how much he loved it. She cried out, almost hysterical, begging him in incoherent mumbles.

"Please, Chuck."

"You have to tell me," he commanded with a wide smirk on his lips, sinking his fingers in deeper. Chuck groaned when he brushed the barrier of her chastity and resisted the urge to plunge in deeper, mark her as his so that she would never forget that _he _was the first. _No_, he would have to show her in other ways. "Tell me what you want." He moved into her so quickly that she could almost hear the palm of his hand slapping against her skin. "What you need…" A tear rolled down her cheek as she felt herself coming undone.

"I don't know...I don't - _oh_," she cried, her voice husky, filled with lust.

"Try again," Chuck challenged, slipping his fingers out all together. Blair let out a choked sob as he hovered over her. Blair clawed at his back in frustration, a frown clouding over her delicate features.

"Make me…" Blair whispered, her mind reaching for what little she'd once caught of the scandalized whispers during tea. But instead, she tried honesty, giving him vulnerability – a rarity for Blair Waldorf. "I need you. I need this." She paused, hold his face in her hands. "_Please_."

All at once, his fingers returned, curling into her as Chuck leaned down to catch her lips in a breathless kiss. His nose brushed hers, and she breathed him in, her hips rising to meet his fingers in an uncontrollable rhythm. "Now, Blair," Chuck demanded, pushing her hips down onto his hand. "_Now_."

"Now," Blair echoed, her vision going white. "Yes, _yes_." Chuck watched in utter satisfaction as she let out a choked sob, squeezing her eyes shut. His name fell from her lips again and again as she came down, her hips finally tiring, twitching as she sank back onto the chaise. Her eyes lazily flitted to him when she was finished and he smiled, slipping his fingers from her. Blair moaned in protest, then watched in utter wonderment as he tasted her, fingers sinking into his own mouth.

"Chuck…" she whispered, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she let a fit of exhaustion wash over her. "You and I…"

"Quiet, Waldorf," Chuck smirked, trying to make light of the situation. "In the morning." Blair nodded in incoherent agreement as she wrapped herself around him, uncharacteristically gentle. He hesitated before he held her, feeling more comfortable with her than he'd ever been with any other girl. She fit him perfectly, every soft curve of her molding into every hard angle of him. Chuck smoothed a hand over her back, anchoring at her hip.

"In the morning, Bass," she mumbled, eyes closing in the midst their private delirium.

And then they fell asleep that way, as two broken strangers, two lost kids.

_Not society's future princess._

_Not a wicked bachelor, a villain of hearts._

But something more.

:::

Upon its closing, Daniel Humphrey slipped out of Victrola, ducking out of the guard's sight once he had properly detailed what he had seen in the private rooms on the pages of his tiny notepad. Back in the safety of his double room, he pulled out his battered old portfolio and sifted through it until he found blank sheets of paper.

He began the letter quickly, in the messy scrawl of his handwriting under the faded lights of the lower level.

_By the time you read this, I'll have returned to New York. In getting closer to the van der Woodsen girl, I've discovered the biggest scandal that will ever hit the presses. The billion dollar Archibald wedding is a sham. The groom had an affair in Liverpool, and the bride has been spotted gallivanting around with his best friend on this very ship._

_And I'm going to expose them all._

- _Dan_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hi guys! I'm so sorry that it took me a while to update this one, and I hope it's not rubbish. Tell me what you all think.


	4. Charade

**4. Charade**

The ship docked at midday to a harbor filled with waving mothers with glistening eyes, anxious wives who were only semi-ignorant to the mistresses already longing for the company of their husbands across the Atlantic. But it was _New York_, and even the specks of dust buried beneath gravel and cement shone brighter there. Gravity pulled slower, gold fell from the clouds, poured from goblets of champagne. The romances were more devastating, and everything appeared to be love when it was clouded over by Fifth Avenue glitz.

And the affairs? Well…

"Well, well, Miss Waldorf."

Blair stirred, and for a brief moment, her eyelids fluttered and the most fleeting of smiles made an appearance on her swollen, pink lips. She pressed herself into his body, imagined that she was just waking up at the top floor of a devastatingly glamorous high-rise with her beloved. She'd bask in the sunrise upon a balcony filled with peonies, and he'd come behind her to strip away her robe, to make love to her just above the rest of the world – as a king and queen only could. And he wouldn't be like the other men with their proper mannerisms or cold touches. Blair would feel no shame because he would never allow it. Instead, they'd dress in matching noirs and scarlet bows – on his collar, in her tresses – and taint the world with sinful nights and dastardly deeds.

Blair sighed, her hazy dream already dangerously close to a conscious wish.

And they would be loathed by some, envied by all, loved by many. She could imagine their faces in monochrome print, bold letters across every society page in New York. _Blair and Charles – _

"Charles!" His name fell from Blair's lips in just short of a shout. And as she pried herself from his grip, her bust heaving in spurts of blind panic, the previous six months came back to her in horrid flashes. She saw her father escaping them at midnight, saw her mother announcing Blair's engagement, saw her awkward encounters with the Archibalds – and a betrothed who had only been hers for a half year before his eyes had strayed to her new best friend.

It was a tragedy, what her life had become. An unstoppable future, dragging her headfirst by her wrists. But this – Blair pulled back, wrapping a mess of white silk around her shivering body as Chuck Bass peered up at her with a quirk in his brow – was an awful mistake. Months ago, she wouldn't have dared to eat a scone from a platter that wasn't fine China. And now she found herself waking up in private barrooms on rickety lounge chairs with a man who was known solely for his lavish wealth and array of forgettable conquests.

Blair's cheeks burned scarlet, her expression grew furious. "_You _should be ashamed of yourself."

At this, Chuck pulled his shirt closed and raised his eyebrows at her. "I didn't take you as the type to enjoy games…" He knew this wasn't a joke, knew that his chance with the ounce of perfection that she'd allowed into his life was slipping from his fingertips just as quickly as it had come. But he still – "You're the scorned lover, and I am the – "

"Bastard." Blair's tone was cold and cutting, her expression guarded. She stared down at Chuck, who was still regarding her from his perch on the velvet lounge chair. The air was thick, and it no longer held the promise of magic and passion as it had on the previous night. The world was stale, and Blair found that she couldn't breathe.

"Blair," Chuck spoke again, eyes narrowed. He glanced down, noticed that her fists were curled so tightly that her knuckles flared white. "Blair," Chuck said again. He touched her elbows, but she curved away as if his touch had burned her. "There's no need to be afraid. You and I can figure things out. About last night – "

"I am _not _afraid," Blair hissed. "Nor do we have anything about last night to speak of. Going off and drinking with you was a serious lapse in my better judgment, which will _never _happen again. I am a woman of society. I'm betrothed to an _Archibald_."

Chuck recoiled. "Who are you pretending for, Blair? They can't hear you. It's you and I here – and nobody else. You wanted to come undone, you wanted to be free. I can give you that. I can give you everything."

"You have nothing that I want, Mister Bass." Blair refused to look at him, at the twitch in his handsome jaw, at his beautiful features lit with rage. She'd had – an affair with this man. But how could she demean what they'd shared to such a pedestrian word? How could she return to such formalities when he'd pulled her to the tip of the world and dragged her back down again? Her eyes were closed in the dim room when she murmured, "You don't even know me."

"And yet," Chuck cut in, grasping her arm with tight fingers, pulling her forward until they shared the same exasperated breath. "I know you better than your beloved Nathaniel ever will." They were frustrated with the impossibility of who they were, frustrated with the impending sorrow of who they could never be to one another. Often, the mere existence of forbidden fantasies can throw the whole world off its axis.

The room was silent for an entire aching beat. And then, "You took advantage of me when I was in an inebriated state." The lies clogged up her throat, and she forced them down with two bitter swallows. "Had I not a wedding to plan, I would be in my right mind to call the authorities once we docked in New York's harbor."

"Your eyes don't even match your mouth," was all Chuck commented. His hands dropped from her arms, and Blair felt the absence of his warmth in the next second. She suddenly felt panicked, felt exasperated in the midst of his disappointment and her outright shame. Chuck leaned in once more, his skin smelling of something awfully sweet, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. Blair's lips pursed of their own accord, and she cursed herself when he smirked at the reaction.

"By all means," Chuck rasped, sweeping his hand across the air. "Enjoy sitting on your throne of denial. I hope that it's – comfortable." He might have said something else after that, but it was lost on Blair. She felt her feet carry her across the room, felt her hands wrench open the door, felt horribly exposed as she pushed through the few aristocrats that made up the ship's morning crowd. But oddly enough, her chest felt empty, as if her organs no longer functioned, as if her veins held no purpose –

As if Chuck Bass had reached in and stolen her heart in the middle of the night.

:::

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf."

Though she had just turned eighteen years old to a grand deal of glittering packages, French silk and crepes, and a gorgeous peach gown that she'd worn better than any European mistress could, hearing Eleanor Waldorf's even voice cutting out her full name made Blair feel like a small child again. Her lips parted, partially in surprise, but mostly in dread, as her mother yanked her back by the fabric of her ruined dress.

"_Mother_." Blair stumbled back, face burning as she avoided Eleanor's gaze. She pulled away, swiped her cold palms over her own cheeks and sat down at her vanity. She lifted a pretty brush made of oak wood, shoved the bristles through her wild curls as if to erase any part of her that Chuck Bass had dared to muss up. Behind her, she felt her mother draw closer, but Blair brushed harder, yanked through her hair until a few stray strands began to fall into her lap. Eleanor yanked the item from her and slammed it down onto the porcelain counter.

"Where have you been all night?"

Blair flinched at her mother's voice, how it peaked in her anger, practically brought the whole ship undersea. She caught their twisted reflections in the vanity mirror, and she smirked. "Mother, don't get so hysterical. You'll give yourself a coronary and ruin your hair."

She didn't expect what came next. The slap was sharp, but it barely stung. Numbness crept across Blair's features until she could feel nothing at all, until she was left staring at the angry red handprint on the side of her face. It wouldn't bruise – not on the outside.

"You've left me no choice, Blair," Eleanor whispered, dropping her hand to her side. "You will not so much as look at him outside of the usual formalities. This is our _future_. We will not lose everything because you've decided to try your luck with a man who only beds whores."

"I haven't – "

"These men will take all that you have," Eleanor warned, fingertips curling into Blair's shoulders. "Don't you see that?" She shook her daughter slightly, shaking her head. "You were always such a strong-willed little girl, so desperate to be a queen, but this delusion of grandeur – this red passion – it'll always hold you down." The older woman grimaced when she caught sight of a faint, bruised blemish on her daughter's otherwise pale neck. It was a love mark, deep and unembarrassed, that tainted her complexion. "He promised you everything, didn't he? And yet…you walked in here alone." Her voice was sad now. "Listen when I tell you to let your heart alone, Blair, and it will never be broken."

"That advice is for the weak," Blair replied. "And I am not weak. I am not you."

"No," Eleanor agreed. "Nor do would I ever wish you to be." Her eyes grew distant, and she was suddenly very far away, a naïve teenager fleeing luxe for love – for a man who would just leave her. She looked so much like Blair when she was young. Those hopeful eyes –

Blair frowned as she watched her mother. "What is it?"

Eleanor blinked, and her red lips straightened into a tight line. "Fetch Dorota and ask her to find some way to cover that disgusting mark on your neck. And then get a hold of yourself. While you were off gallivanting with that Bass, the ship docked an hour ago, and your husband won't depart without you on his arm."

"Fiancé," Blair corrected in a whisper.

But the word didn't seem to make a difference.

:::

The ride uptown was near silent, what with Nate sitting up by the driver and Blair sandwiched between her mother and Dorota. It was as if their last encounter on the ship had never happened. After Dorota had powered Blair's neck for a half hour straight, Eleanor had resumed her gawking and giggling in front of Nate. She pointed at buildings, calling excitedly to Blair's betrothed as Dorota murmured things in Polish, disgruntled complaints, which Blair did not understand but wholeheartedly agreed with.

"Oh, how grand is it all, Blair?"

"It's marvelous," Blair deadpanned. She kept her voice toneless. "This must all be a dream." Her eyes locked on her mother. "Someone slap me."

If her remarks were bothering her mother, it didn't show. Eleanor simply prattled on. "Nate has informed me that he'd like to steal you away for the afternoon. Isn't that just so romantic? He'd like to show you the penthouse – "

"The penthouse," Blair echoed.

"Well, of course," Eleanor sighed. "Or did you think that you and your new husband would live on the _streets _after the ceremony?" She laughed as if her own joke was the funniest thing in the world. "He says that it's not furnished yet. Of course, it would be improper to share a bed before your nuptials regardless…but I think he's just seeking your approval. You know how men are."

Blair was hardly listening. Instead, her mind wandered to an hour before. She'd been on the dock, standing at the center of the hectic crowd outside of the Onslaught. Lovers kissed, mothers cried, horses heaved sighs even more impatient than Blair's. But above all of their heads, in the haze of the city's midsummer heat, Blair caught a pair of onyx eyes locked on hers. He was staring at her, bags in hand, brows furrowed.

_Chuck_. She mouthed his name before Dorota's fingers locked around her wrist and pulled her away. She glanced back in a fit of desperation, but he was already gone, just a shadow among all the rest, just a memory on a ship that refused to be forgotten.

"The driver will take us to the place where we'll all be staying," Eleanor continued, snapping Blair to the present. "Nate will bring you along in time for tea."

This caught Blair's interest. "And where _will _we be staying?"

Eleanor paused, cast a quick glance at her daughter. "A place called The Palace."

Blair snorted. "How very pretentious. Will they roll out a carpet for us when we arrive?"

"Mind your wit, Blair," Eleanor sighed. "It's highly unappreciated." She drew back the car's drapes. "Charles Bass has been generous enough to offer up his recently inherited enterprise as the venue for your wedding, Blair. Aside from the ceremony itself, most everything will be held at The Palace."

Dorota coughed, murmured another Polish phrase that Blair had picked up as a young child in the maid's care. It meant, _"God help us all."_

Yes, indeed.

Blair fought to steady her breathing as the memories came rushing back to her. _I can give you that. I can give you everything._

"Is it that you truly hate me, mother?" Blair asked, arching one brow. She reached for the miniature trunk she carried on her lap and began to powder away her flush. And then she dotted at the invisible mark on her neck for good measure.

"Don't frown, Blair," Eleanor ordered. She sighed, waved a manicured hand in Blair's face. "Wrinkles."

Blair scowled straight at her mother to make a point. But before another pointless argument could break out between the two, the automobile's walls shuddered, the wheels gearing back in an abrupt halt. Blair gathered her bearings, fanned herself as Nate appeared at the door, one hand extended towards Blair.

"Don't keep her for too long, Nathaniel," Eleanor cooed.

There came that million-watt smile. "I won't, Eleanor." His hand closed around Blair's, and it was sweet. A boy who her mother loved, who whisked her away on his arm wherever he went. This was proper. Nate smelled like soap, his grin promised safety, and she was charmed. This was right.

As the vehicle lugged her mother and maid down the street, Blair stared up at the glorious building before her. It was gold in a sea of black, beige paint and glittering finishes. Carvings were engraved across the railings, underneath windowsills. The glass was sparkling, and the whole thing was made all the more surreal with the hues of violet and coral painted across the sky behind it.

"Oh, Nate," Blair breathed.

"Just wait until you see the inside," Nate promised, hooking an arm around her waist. He was like a young boy, she thought. They were so different, he and Blair. She could see why he'd been so drawn to Serena now. Blair could never be that light, and she would never be able to share her torment with him. Her chest closed in. _It would be a lifetime of silence._

The lift brought them up to the very top floor, and he pulled her into a foyer, then into a grand expanse of white. The view of the city was blinding – lights and silver and everything in between. There was so much space here. She imagined preparing tea for Nate as he read the newspaper in the morning, giving him sweet kisses before embroidering her millionth sheet with the girls. She'd have children here, die here, and it had all been decided for her. Blair stepped up to the floor-length window, pressed her hand to the glass.

"It's too much," Blair said.

Nate, who misunderstood her comment, guessed that she was talking about the apartment itself. He scratched the back of his neck and smiled. "My parents thought it appropriate. You're going to be an Archibald now, Blair. This belongs to us."

Blair let out a breath, leaving a trail of fog in her wake. "I feel like a child here, Nate," Blair tried to explain. "I feel so small." She gasped when his hands suddenly found her waist. His touch was hesitant, as if he might break her.

"You don't – you don't look like a child to me," Nate promised. She glanced over her shoulder and offered him a small smile. Together, they marveled at the rest of the apartment, finally coming to a dim sitting room in which they were meant to entertain one day. There was a small wooden tea table there, along with a mint green loveseat, something that her mother would have picked out. They sat side by side, shoulders pressed tightly together, Blair's fingers folded atop her lap.

Blair glanced at him again. "Na – " Her words cut off when his lips came down onto hers, one of his hands capturing her chin before she could finish speaking. Blair gasped, jerking her head in surprise, which caused her nose to bump against his. It hadn't been this way with Chuck on the ship. Kissing _him _had been as effortless and delicious as waking up to a beautiful morning with absolutely nothing to do. And the way he'd touched her –

_Tell me what you want – what you need._

Blair gasped when Nate went in for another kiss to try again. She acted quickly, placed a hand on his chest, turned her head so that his lips landed on one of her pink cheeks. Nate looked confused as Blair patted her dress down and darted up from her seat. "Oh, I'm so fatigued and rumpled from being on that ship. And these clothes are so stale. I'd really just love to change into something more appropriate and have my tea and bath."

Nate cleared his throat. "Okay…Okay, of course," he agreed. She took his arm, and they were quiet as they descended the lift, as they waited for another car out in front. Nate tipped the man at the door, and they were off. It seemed that the cabbie didn't need so much as an address to get them to where they were going. All Nate said was "The Palace, in a hurry", and the car sped up Park.

This time, Nate sat in the back with Blair and dozed off against her shoulder while she stared out at the city passing them by. He held her hand, his thumb caught against the band on her ring finger. She stared down, angled herself away from him as they drove on. And, for the first time, she saw the Archibald heirloom for what it actually was.

A shackle of rubies, and it was all a charade.

But Blair had never been a fan of playing pretend.

:::

_Two Months Later_

"Only peonies."

"But what about – "

"Honestly Serena," Blair sighed as they milled through the Upper East Side's grand flower fair. "At _your_ wedding, you can choose whatever you please. But since that's nowhere in our near future, I expect you to assist today. _Silently_."

Serena stuck her tongue out behind the brunette's back and pulled another bunch of magenta peonies from the bunch. "That's what I simply adore about you, B. So easygoing."

Blair frowned, picked a fallen daisy from the marble floor and threw it at her friend. The blonde laughed, clutched at Blair's little waist as they carried on through the rainbow of rows. It was the perfect afternoon, Blair decided. After two months of dodging Nate's advances, releasing her frustration onto her poor planning staff, artfully avoiding Chuck under his own roof, and waking up beat red and antsy in her own bed after long nights of Bass-filled fantasies, this was the most normal day she'd had since they'd fled Liverpool. Serena had intruded upon her nearly adjoining hotel room and dragged her off to visit the amazing little indoor garden that had just opened up on Madison Avenue. With its doors opened into a connecting park and the heavy aroma of fresh freesias, it felt like paradise in the middle of Manhattan's madness.

The Onslaught seemed so far behind them now. And tonight, the Archibalds would hold a grand gala in Nate and Blair's honor…

As if she could read Blair's mind, Serena raised her eyebrows and murmured, "Excited?"

Blair studied a crown of rose petals. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh…maybe because your mind has been elsewhere since we docked in New York," Serena prodded. But Blair ignored her, filling up her basket with more bulbs for the bridesmaids' bouquets. She narrowed her eyes in faux concentration, and Serena sighed. "Were you ever going to tell me, B?"

"Tell you?" the brunette repeated airily. "Tell you what, Serena? You're wasting so much time chattering. Can blondes not walk and talk at the same time?"

"You're in love with Chuck Bass."

The basket in Blair's hands hit the floor, and a few stray stalks rolled away from the two girls. Instead of bothering to pick it up, Blair stared open-mouthed at Serena, eyes wide, chest quaking. But she snapped out of it just as quickly. Pemberly Quick, some housewife that was already preying on Blair's little circle for an invite to the big affair, passed them by with an embarrassingly frantic wave.

"Blair, honey, Maxwell and I _must _have a drink with you and Nate soon. Before the nuptials, yes?"

Blair lifted her pinched lips, eyes trained on Serena as she said, "Yes, Pemberly. A drink with you is _exactly _my priority while I'm planning the wedding of the year." Her voice was light and dry as she bent to pick up the flowers. "I'll be sure to drop everything else in your favor."

The woman was flustered and embarrassed as she walked off, spouting out some vapid excuse about an unreliable housekeeper back at home. Blair rolled her eyes and turned back to Serena. "What did you just say to me?"

"Every time he walks into a room…you freeze up and find some sort of meaningless task to go off and do. He gets this look in his eyes like there's something between you two. I know that you don't want to be with Nate, and I told you that I would be your friend through all of this – and beyond it. But I won't let you lie to yourself any longer!"

"A _friend _doesn't spew out ridiculous accusations," Blair hissed. "How dare you suggest that I've been anything but faithful to my groom-to-be? Not everyone just beds whomever they please without a care in the world."

Serena paused. "I deserve that."

"Leave it alone, Serena."

"_Blair_." She pulled Blair into a quieter corner of the gardens, set both of their baskets down on a marble bench. Serena passed a reassuring hand over her arm. "You're defensive because you don't want anyone to mistake you for weak. But that's not who I am. I would never judge you. I want to help you. I don't want you to walk into something that you won't be able to find your way out of."

"You choose today to be so observant," Blair finally sighed.

It took Serena a few moments to realize that this was Blair's form of admittance. "So…it happened. You and Chuck?" The blonde had the unnatural ability to avoid tension with her own bubbly ignorance. "Was he romantic? I imagine that he must be around you. Oh, B, was it on the ship? Right under our noses. That must have been terribly exciting, wasn't – " Serena yelped when Blair's small hand came down over her mouth.

"Before your head bubbles up with delusions," Blair hissed, "I'll tell you everything. But not now, and especially not _here_, with idiots like Pemberly flouncing around. All we need is for the wrong person to overhear – "

"Um…Serena?"

Blair froze, dropped her hand away from Serena and straightened up at the sound of his voice. It was familiar, like an annoying faded memory taking up too much space in her already cluttered mind. She turned around, her lips curling in disgust when she spotted their intruder. Since their time on the ship, Daniel Humphrey had clearly not found the time to visit a tailor… or a hairdresser. Though Blair had no idea why. She couldn't imagine Humphrey with a social calendar filled with social engagements.

"Oh…" Blair trailed off, her stare blank. "It's you." She waited exactly three seconds before grasping Serena's arm and continuing, "Well, good afternoon, Mister Humphrey. We really must be going."

But Serena would not budge. "Blair," the blonde warned. "Be nice."

"That sounds terribly boring," Blair murmured back. Serena shook her head, and Blair finally gave in with a hefty sigh. She turned on her heel and faced Dan like the whole thing was a huge effort on her part. Her eyes trailed up his ruffled form until she glared at him head on. "Well, Daniel, should I be concerned about your unseemly obsession with my friend?"

"Obsession? I…That's not what…"

"She's joking," Serena interjected, nudging Blair's side with her elbow. "You're just joking. Aren't you, B?"

"I just think it's awfully strange," Blair commented with her nose turned up just slightly – but nowhere near as obviously as Pemberly's always was. She had class, after all. "That such a character such as yourself would spend their afternoon frolicking around petunias and oleanders." Blair narrowed her eyes. "I mean, can you even see another unaccompanied male here, Serena?"

"Well," the blonde answered, cocking her head to one side. "That is a bit…strange."

Panicked, Dan stumbled over his words again. In his attempt to gather himself, he leaned on one of the flower posts and knocked a small bush of dyed roses over. Blair smirked, and Serena blushed at the spectacle as he struggled to pick them up.

"No, it's not anything like that," Dan promised. "I came to pick up something nice to…brighten up the place I've been staying in."

"You mean, they let you out of your cage?"

"No," Dan frowned. "I'm renting a flat in the Brooklyn tenement buildings."

Blair's nose wrinkled, and Serena forced a kind smile.

"In Flatbush?" Dan tried again.

Serena cleared her throat. "Well, that sounds nice and…quaint."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm not even sure that Serena knows what a Brooklyn is, Humphrey. Now, if you're done with your little self-important tirade, we have lives to get on with. I suggest that you find one of your own."

"Of course." Dan bowed his head, then caught Blair's eye. "You have a wedding to plan. I'm sure that it hasn't been easy. They say that events like these are much like going through the motions of a play. Leading and lying and passing with what goes. They say that it's like a charade."

Blair halted in her tracks. Though the comment flew over Serena's head, it shook Blair. The way Dan looked at her now was not the same look of the bumbling idiot he pretended to be. He raised a flower to her before putting it back in his basket, then offered a weak smile. Blair parted her lips to say something, but her throat went dry, her will weak. She found Serena's hand and dragged her away, shivering when she still felt Humphrey's even gaze on the back of her neck.

"Come on, Serena. I'm exhausted," Blair complained. "And the smell of these flowers has made me ill."

:::

Later, when Dan returned to his cramped little flat, the space that only overlooked the ruddy brick wall of another building across the street, his partner was hunched over an aged typewriter, sipping cheap booze from a dirty cup. He set his bag down and came behind his best friend, placed a hand on the top of her messy black curls and read over her shoulder.

"How's it coming?"

Vanessa sighed, offered him the rest of her beer and pushed away. "We need this story, Dan."

"I know."

"It's not a joke anymore."

"I _know_," Dan insisted. He swigged the alcohol in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down, then turned to the window and unbuttoned his shirt, shedding the fabric for one of his stained undergarments. "I've never let you down before, have I?"

"No," Vanessa agreed rather reluctantly. "But we don't have anything if we're not successful in taking down the Archibald wedding. Everything is talk in this town. If we had proof – real, cold hard evidence of the affairs – we would have all of them in the palm of our hands. Just imagine the – "

"Money," Dan finished. "I have. Many times. I just need time. Blair and Chuck are smarter than all the rest. But I saw her crack today. She faltered, and I'm almost ready." Dan paused for a moment, considering. "But I think it's Chuck who will give us everything if he breaks. We need _him_."

Vanessa shook her head, sat back in her seat to look at him. "And what makes you say that?"

Dan shrugged as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. "You haven't seen the way he looks at her."

:::

The engagement soiree took place in The Palace's ballroom, despite a number of Blair's futile protests. But it was silly to throw the thing anywhere else. It seemed that no matter where she turned, Chuck Bass owned every square inch of Manhattan. And now she was standing in the middle of his legacy, draped in a beautiful custom-made gown, ruffles of pale pink and rich ivory. She pulled her shawl over herself and closed her eyes, weakened at the sight of the grand room. The decorators had been ordered to fit the space exactly to her taste. It was the picture of class, white and black as she had imagined it.

But still, she felt wrong. _This _felt wrong.

"He'll be here," Serena warned in her ear. Her friend was wearing a more demure pink gown to offset Blair's. Usually, Blair thought the idea of matching to be horrid. But she enjoyed doing things like this with Serena. It was…fun. Though Blair was on Nate's arm, Serena pulled her in again to murmur, "And he's brought his fiancé."

But there was no need for the warning. A delighted grin sprung on Nate's face, and the color drained from Blair's cheeks. Because standing before them, in a deep maroon suit and devastatingly handsome bowtie around his neck was Chuck Bass. Her reaction to him was immediate. Heat rushed south, her stomach turned, and she immediately wanted to throw herself into his arms and let him have his way with her. _Oh no, no, no, no, no. _

And then Blair spotted his cling-on, and the feeling evaporated into rage.

"Chuck, man," Nate called out, startling loud amidst the dull hum of socialite chatter. "Come, let's make the introductions." He curled Blair into his side and kissed the top of her head. He'd been affectionate like this lately, like he was trying to compensate for something, especially in front of Serena and their parents. And Blair enjoyed it, to some extent, but it often grew rather tiresome. Despite herself, she recalled Daniel Humphrey's words. _Like a charade._

The woman attached to Chuck had to be Georgina Sparks. The girl had always been too bothersome to be considered beautiful. But her hair was just a bit shinier than Blair's, her lips an ounce fuller. Blair pinched the inside of her palm and glanced at Serena as Nate brought them closer to the couple. They looked all wrong, Blair thought to herself. She was too obnoxious, too empty-headed for his taste. She had the looks without the charm, the dry wit sans the actual follow-up. Chuck would not stay up nights murmuring to her about wicked things or arousing her with genuinely sinful banter. He needed to be with someone who could keep up with him whilst holding him down and at her side.

Somebody like –

"Blair," Serena coughed. "You remember Georgina, don't you? I think we all took a class on tapestries together."

Blair looked away. "Vaguely, I suppose." She paused, eyes searching Georgina's face. "And how have you been keeping yourself busy until now?"

The girl's eyes flickered to a man across the room at the question, and Blair followed her gaze to Jack Bass, who was currently entertaining a group of elderly, retired businessmen – a scam in the making, she was sure. But just as quickly, the smile returned to Georgina's lips. "Oh, that doesn't matter. We're here now, aren't we?"

Blair paused. _Interesting._

"And…we're all getting _married_," Georgina sighed in her wicked delight. "Except you, of course, Serena. I suppose that there are just two types of girls." Even Serena's usually cheerful demeanor faded away in exchange for blatant irritation. The blonde crossed her arms over her chest, but Georgina only faltered to resume clapping her hands together and show off the band of diamonds on her finger. Blair felt nauseous as the set glittered back at her. The ring was cut and collected beautifully on the girl's bony hand. Blair blinked, then dared to look up at Chuck.

If looks could burn, Blair suddenly found herself set aflame. He looked at her, thrust a million questions, declarations, emotions onto her shoulders. And she wanted to give them back, pretend that she didn't want his burdens to bear, but it seemed as if he could see straight through her lies.

"Mister Bass." The greeting barely came out at all. She leaned into Nate, who was ever-present as her safety net. Chuck didn't even bother to contain his annoyance.

"Mrs. Archibald," Chuck spat back, fighting to keep his voice as toneless as possible. Blair flinched at the cold, suggestive greeting. How _dare _he do this to her at a venue where he knew that she could not react? In the same instant, his hand crept lower on Georgina's back, and he kissed the woman's neck, his eyes right on Blair's as he did so.

"Nate," Blair got out through a quick gasp. "Darling, I'd like to see the private balconies with you."

"Oh, looks like Blair can't handle the heat of grown-up fun," Georgina mocked. This time, she leaned in to kiss Chuck, but he dodged her advance, clearly seeing no need for her now. Georgina frowned, then smoothed her hand down the lapel of his suit.

"And it looks like you finally found a dress that looks nearly as cheap as you do," Blair hissed. She flicked a stray curl over her shoulder and spun on her heel. "Nate, the balconies."

Chuck watched her, extricating his arm from Georgina's as Blair went. Around them, the room filled with the violinist's opening number, and couples were beginning to waltz across the floor. In the confusion, Chuck suddenly disappeared, and Georgina wandered off in a huff to one of the cloth-covered round tables. Nate shrugged his shoulders at Serena, glancing in all directions quite helplessly.

"There's something about Chuck that brings her closer to me," Nate sighed. "I'm worried that they don't like each other. My best friend and my fiancé…I honestly thought that they would get along."

Serena stared back at him, and offered a sympathetic smile at the boy's dimness. "Oh, Nate," she sighed, blonde curls falling to her face. "Let's have a dance. And then you'll go get a drink for Blair."

Across the room, out on the balconies, Blair had her fingers wrapped around the balcony's brass railing as she stared off at the array of beautiful rooftops and crowds abuzz with their nightly excitement. New York had held such excitement for Blair before she had arrived. She would find freedom here, she had once thought. But she was more of a captive than ever.

"Hello, angel," came a deep voice behind her. "This is quite the party that you've thrown here. It's quite…impressive." Blair jumped, clutching onto the railing for support. Jack Bass was standing behind her, much too close for her liking. His advances pressed her back into the gate, and Blair squared her jaw in resistance.

"I'm no angel, Mister Bass," Blair said rather coldly. "And you certainly don't strike me as being holy."

"No," Jack mused, raking a hand through his quaffed hair. "Not an angel. I'm quite mistaken." He drew even closer to her, and Blair let out a quick breath of panic. "You look at my nephew with the eyes of a broken girl desperate to sin. He's never had that – never a girl like you. And, as a matter of fact, neither have I." Jack's eyes raked over her figure in the darkness. "Tell me, Blair. Will you pay the price once he's bored with the chase?"

"If you come any closer to me, Mr. Bass," Blair warned. "I'll scream. I don't care who hears."

"Hm," Jack snarled. "Why don't we test that threat?" But before Jack could lay a hand on her, he was yanked backwards, shoved onto the cobblestoned flooring. Blair gasped as Chuck grabbed his uncle by the collar of the man's dress shirt.

"Did we not already have this conversation?" Chuck asked, shoving Jack away. "Or are you so much of a leech that you could not hear me straight?" The older man fought to catch his breath, already holding out his hands in surrender.

"I was only keeping the…princess company as her groom entertains other, blonder guests," Jack chuckled, stumbling for his exit. Blair froze up, but said nothing, and Chuck glared at him with eyes that threatened to kill. But Jack was as careless as ever, and he made his way back through the covering of white drapes, which were yellowed by the glowing, shadowy light inside.

Chuck's voice broke through the sudden silence. "Blair."

"Oh," came her quick reply as she smoothed out her dress once again. "You remember my name now? You're done taunting me?" Blair dared to look up at him. "Well, it's too late. I'd like for you to go, and pick up the garbage that you dared to bring into my presence on your way out."

"This is my father's hotel."

"This is _my _engagement." Blair shoved past him. "You may consider yourself uninvited."

"That's never stopped me before." Chuck snagged her wrist in his hand, yanking back when she pulled forward. They struggled for a moment until Blair threw up her other arm in exasperation.

"What is it, Chuck?" Blair sighed, nearly hysterical. "Why can't you let this go? Was your uncle correct through all the smarminess? Is it a challenge for you to be rejected by a girl like me? Did you expect me to be your toy until the wedding?"

"No."

"No?"

"I like you," Chuck admitted. He was surprised at his own confession, but he held strong, pulled her in with the hand anchored around her arm. "You fascinate me…captivate me. Every ounce of who you are draws me in."

Blair faltered. "Why?"

"Because I look at you," Chuck stated, brushing a thumb over the bone of her wrist. "And I see myself."

"Ugh," Blair groaned, struggling away from his hold again. "And just when I thought that you couldn't possibly be the most self-absorbed man on the planet…"

"Just shut up for a moment, Waldorf," Chuck smirked. Blair gasped at his choice of words, felt him bow her up against his chest and hold her there. "You're annoying, you're arrogant, and an outright bitch when you decide to be." He chuckled and caught her other wrist before she could reach out and slap him. "But you're beautiful when you're improper, you're smarter than all the rest, and you use it quietly, cleverly, to get everything you want. Conversation serves no purpose unless I'm talking to you, and your body responds to mine like the world isn't sure of anything else." Chuck paused, his lips lifting at one corner of his mouth. "And nobody gives you _nearly _enough credit for your wit."

Blair stopped resisting for a moment and allowed herself to mold into the parts of him that matched her own. "But you're Chuck Bass." She shook her head, brown curls coming loose from their arrangement atop her head. "But you're here with _her_."

"I haven't touched her," Chuck promised, skimming his fingers down the lace at her back. "Or any other woman. For months, my mind has been clouded with memories of that night. And you…purring in my ear. She's merely a formality. That ring on her finger belongs – " Chuck cut off, reached for Blair's small hand at their sides. He found her engagement ring, and he began to slide it down, feeling the rubies press into the pad of his thumb.

"Chuck, don't – " Her words were lost, and her lips were caught against his. Blair moaned, pushed him away from her, and grabbed him again in the same swift moment. He caught onto her game, the charade of a lover's quarrel, and they fought together in a fit of passion. He captured her wrists, pinned her still, and Blair bit down on his lip so hard that she thought he might have drawn blood. Chuck yanked and ripped at the folds of her dress, and they stumbled over each other to get closer – and closer still.

And she almost laughed against his lips, a mad woman's exclamation.

"I want you," she said breathlessly, reaching down to the waist of his trousers. Chuck growled in her ear, dipped his head to watch her dainty hand disappear between them. The brazen act only served to make him more aroused, and he pressed her closer, ground against her thigh. Blair threw her head back and moaned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I want you," Blair whispered again. "All of you, right now."

"Your wish, Miss Waldorf," Chuck whispered, sliding the sleeve of her dress from her shoulder, "is my – "

"Blair? Are you out here?" Nate's voice broke into their whispered longings, and Chuck pulled her farther into the shadows. Blair hid her face in his chest, dug her cheek against his neck as Nate searched for her. They were sure that he could not see them, but it was only a matter of time before –

"Come to me," Chuck whispered against her forehead. "Tomorrow morning before the rest of them wake. I'll be waiting for you at the top floor of The Palace." Blair felt him slide her ring back into its place, then press a jagged strip of metal into the center of her palm. "You have the only spare now."

Blair's heart jumped with excitement as Chuck slid her dress back into place, clipped her hair into its finer state. And then he gave her a gentle shove towards the light, towards his best friend, without waiting for an answer.

Because he already knew that she would come.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, this story is still alive! I find myself feeling so sorry for Nate as I write this, but his time will come. And I'm so excited to see CB fall deeper into their sordid little affair...

A thank you to everyone who reviewed and motivated me to continue this. Drop a note if you're still reading and let me know what you think! xo, N


	5. A Fine Frenzy

**5. A Fine Frenzy**

Blair had been toying with the same curl for an hour straight, forcing her breath to steady as she pulled it to skim her cheek. The hotel was quiet, and even the smarmiest of businessmen and Lower East Side luxury-riders had called it a night. Only Blair was still awake, eyes wide, heart answering her anxiety with uneven thumps knocking hard against her chest. She was grateful to be in her own suite, a hall and two migraines away from Eleanor. Here, she could pull the neck of her dress down in peace, flushing at the ample cleavage the move revealed when she did so.

She kept him waiting on purpose, could practically imagine the man that she was so suddenly intoxicated with brooding in his penthouse, liquor on his tongue as he stared out at the city, shirttails untucked, bowtie loose around an unbuttoned collar –

Blair let out a breath, licked her lips in excitement. Just the thought of it made her dizzy.

"Okay," Blair finally whispered to herself, passing a hand down her white corset, the same color she'd worn when he'd first touched her, fingers wet, breath hot, body insistent. And now she had on a stripped-down version of the other garment, bare around her ribs, just dusting the tops of her thighs. A long time ago, Blair's mother had convinced her that she lacked what other women had – women like Serena van der Woodsen. She could not lure with an irresistible hand, she could not whisper a siren's call. _Just be content that you're the woman a man will settle for._

"He'll do much more than settle for me," Blair sighed as she wrapped a black shawl over her scantily-clad form. She'd said much of the same to herself when Nate had put that ring on her finger back in Liverpool. But now, as her slippered feet barely made a sound across the carpeted hall on her way to Chuck, she could actually believe it.

The lift deposited her in front of a golden door, swirls of indecipherable brass patterns, one she had so often longed to see during the mad flurry of wedding plans and Bass avoidance. The key in her hands slipped so easily into its lock, and she couldn't help but find it so metaphorical. But when she finally pushed the door open, she gasped when it caught against something on the other side. Blair blinked, a palm pressed to her chest as she stared back at Chuck Bass, his black hair rumpled, his features ridden with anxiety. His hand was also on the doorknob, and he froze for a moment, eyes narrowed at her in the dim hallway.

Blair drew back, uncertain now. "Chuck…" A wave of dread seeped through her. "Were you going somewhere?"

"You're here," Chuck stated dumbly, his hand dropping to his side. "It's been hours since…I thought you might have…" He coughed, and Blair had never seen him this flustered. Chuck had a way with talking his way through life, had a smooth handle over every single word she'd ever heard. But now, he had nothing. He could only clear his throat, pull the collar of his shirt away from his neck, and say, "I'm an impatient man, Waldorf."

"Oh," Blair breathed, her lips lifting into a coy grin to match his sheepish one. "Did you think I wouldn't come?" She stepped over the threshold, bust grazing his chest as she tilted her head up to look at him. "Chuck Bass, are you really this troubled…over a woman?"

He smirked, leaned forward – one hand grasping her hip, the other pushing the door shut. "Not just a woman." As he spoke, his fingers brushed her shawl, ran up the line of her torso to the bones of her collar. Blair closed her eyes, smiled when he shoved the black fabric away from her shoulders, let it pool around her feet in a forgotten puddle. "This…is not lingerie." Blair delighted at the groan that surfaced from his throat. "This will be my downfall." It should have been overly dramatic, the way he dropped to his knees as he said the words. But the way he suckled the skin of her stomach with his lips brought the theatrics from Blair's own moans and heady sighs instead.

"You were going to come to my room?" Blair gasped, trying to keep her focus as her foot left the floor, his fingers lifting at the hook of her knee.

"Yes," he growled against her navel, tongue dipping and teeth nibbling her skin.

"You were – " She sucked in a breath when his head dipped lower, rough hands riding the fabric up her thighs. Blair tilted her head back, trained her eyes on the ceiling. Her fingers curled into his hair, and she laughed in her pleasure. "Were you going to steal me away in the night?"

"If it came to that – " Chuck cut off, and something about the way he looked up at her while his tongue was still laving at her skin made Blair shiver. He released her stomach from the pull of his lips and whispered, "Then yes." He was then on his feet so quickly that Blair felt dizzy. She giggled, light-headed, heart racing as one of Chuck's arms hooked under her knees and pulled her from the floor. As they walked backwards, Chuck blindly peppered kisses to the slope of her neck, Blair threw breathless gasps at the walls of his empty suite. He stumbled before catching himself, before dropping her onto a plush carpet in the penthouse's sitting room.

"Mm," Blair sighed, brown curls blanketing the beige flooring. Her chest heaved with excited breaths, and her rosy cheeks flushed even more so as she bit down on the very tip of her own finger. "I love it when you touch me." Chuck smiled in slight disbelief, felt blood rush south, his erection already hardening behind his trousers, and he passed a hand down the center of her chest, scrunching her little ivory garment as he went.

"Then why – " Chuck smirked, his breath fanning out over her shoulder as he leaned into her. " – do you deny me so?" He tore the corset from her breasts, groaned when they spilled over, perky breasts at attention for only him. His own shirt followed, and he felt Blair's frantic fingers on the line of his waist, too eager and _so _innocent. Chuck startled when she gripped his shoulder blades, tried with all her might to press his weight against her. His lips parted, his eyes closed when her bare chest met his, the skin of Blair's cheek nuzzling his neck in a move so intimate that he could barely hold himself up.

"I just wanted to feel you," Blair whispered to him shyly, shimmying and wriggling in her clear arousal, hips pushing up to meet him bone to bone – core to heat. She tilted her chin up, pressed it to his jaw as she murmured, "I denied you because you're Chuck Bass."

Chuck's vision glazed over when her legs spread wider to accommodate him. The smooth skin of her thigh just barely brushed his hipbone, and he gasped, dug his face into her neck and struggled to focus. "I'm not comprehending your logic. You're going to have to – " A sharp inhale came when Blair's nail caught on the skin of his lower back in her attempt to push his pants away, " – explain yourself."

"I denied you because denial was all that I had," Blair breathed, mewling in his ear when his fingers searched for her undergarments and yanked. "Before, of course, you got bored of yet another conquest – "

"_Bored_?" His chuckle vibrated against her skin, even as he was kicking the leg of his pants away. "Do you think I would so tirelessly pursue such a _stubborn _woman if I was bored?"

Blair's smile could not be hidden. "No." Her leg jumped when she felt his stiff member against her soft skin, pressing into her thigh at the same aching pace of his lips on hers. Blair tilted her head, blinked at him, gasped when he slipped across her wet heat.

"Miss Waldorf," Chuck drawled, reverting back to their teasing banter, how an ember had managed to spark at sea. "I'm afraid that if I take you now, I'll have to have you permanently." He slipped into Blair easily, a rough hand cupping her thigh as he entered her. She moaned, tried to focus on his words. "I'm not sure if I can bother with whoever you promised to meet down the aisle."

With that, Chuck's hand pinned her wrist to the carpet, and he forced the ruby ring off her finger, sent it skidding to some shadow of the dark room. He thrust into her at the same instant, groaning, unable to stop when he felt how tight she was around him. She cried out, nails leaving little indents down the line of his back. Pain shot down her thighs, but a pleasurable heat spread across her lower stomach, rising with every kiss upon her hot cheek, every soft stroke down the side of her waist.

Chuck kissed her throat, listened for the moment her whimper became a moan of utter completion, to proposition, "All you have to do is tell me."

Blair sighed, lifted her hips, rolled her body into his. "Tell you…"

"_Promise _me," Chuck corrected under a heavy breath. His hips surged forward, pelvis pressing into her clit, forcing out another moan. With one hand he massaged her breast, with his other, he lifted her higher. "Promise me that you won't run again."

And as they met in a harried dance again and again, as he growled into her ear, as Blair furrowed her brow when he touched her in places she'd never even dreamt of being touched, she never did make that promise.

All she could say, all that she could be sure of was, "I'm yours. I am completely and irrevocably yours."

:::

Affairs begin in the sort of way that shooting stars do. They come, they speed, they burn through all of the black and promise nothing but seem to offer everything. They allow the rest of the galaxy to settle for itself.

Chuck and Blair shot through the sky in a flurry of forbidden kisses, all while she was meant to be planning her wedding. Those were the moments he craved the most throughout the stream of dull words exchanged with his psychopathic fiancé, the duller meetings in which he could only think of the way Blair's thighs grew a flush when he lifted her leg to take her deeper. Those kisses – in the broom closets, in the dark hallways, right under everybody's prim noses - were his favorite.

Chuck would pull her into the dark, and she would yelp every damn time, as if she were so surprised that he would do this. With one hand still cinching her fingertips, the other would pin her hip to the wall, and he would kiss her until she couldn't breathe, until she was literally red in the face.

He would kiss her, and Blair would get angry every time, would shove him away with a firm hand and muster up her best scowl.

"I'm supposed to be planning my wedding, Charles," Blair would say with the stamp of her tiny foot. And then they'd pause before exchanging the same slow, sly smirk. To any other two sordid lovers, this game would be sick. To them, it was absolutely delicious.

And it lasted thirteen days.

But there's a distinct reason why shooting stars are so extraordinary. They go just as soon as they leave their mark. When we're children, we accept that fact and busy ourselves finding stardust in the sky to remember them by.

When we're older, we begin to look at stars everyday, but we only think to remember the ones that will have to go.

:::

Two weeks before Blair was meant to walk a death march down some holy aisle, an opportunity unlike any other presented itself.

It began with a simple trip to the countryside. Chuck owned a chateau there – as he owned most things everywhere – and offered up the little villa for his three good friends before the madness of the nuptials commenced. It was bittersweet and mostly selfish, that gesture. He wanted Blair to himself, wanted every bit of her he could reach before – well, he wasn't sure of what came after.

And then, this happened:

"Darling," Nate said as he sat beside Blair, sat across from Chuck and Serena while they were all at tea by the Plaza. The room was light and airy, all white curtains and pretty pastries. Chuck had his eyes trained so steadily on his lover that it was a wonder how the rest of the room managed to continue on existing. Blair shivered a bit, tried to focus on her golden-haired fiancé as he recounted a conversation he'd had with his grandfather. "William really wants to see me before…everything. I want to be there with you – " Nate squeezed Blair's hand under the table, nodded at Chuck, neck flushing red when he turned to Serena. " – with all of you, but…"

"Go!" Blair exclaimed, then cleared her throat when she realized how immediate her reaction was. Chuck smirked, and Blair fought a smile while she toyed with her fingers beneath the cloaked tabletop. "I mean…I'll manage without you. I have Serena, and even Chuck should offer _some _sort of deranged company – " He winked at her when Nate couldn't see. Serena saw, pressed a napkin to her lips while Blair continued, "I really want you to enjoy your grandfather's company."

Nate frowned at how understanding his fiancée suddenly was. Her features were eerily smooth, her demeanor surprisingly calm as she nibbled into a breakfast scone. Across the table, Chuck was suddenly very amused by the tea cup in his hand, and Serena studied her miniature sandwich as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"…Okay," Nate agreed with a slow shake of his head. "Chuck, man, why don't you take Georgina in my place?"

Chuck scoffed, didn't even consider the suggestion. "Wouldn't want my suit to rip from all of that dead weight latched onto my arm."

"That's romantic," Serena muttered, elbowing him under the table. Chuck went unfazed, and Blair spared him a small smile.

"Alright," Nate agreed with a small shrug. He leaned in, kissed Blair's cheek, smoothed the fabric of her dress at her lower back. When he pulled away, already distracted by the bits of fluff that plagued his gentle mind, Blair promptly pushed away from the table, clutched Serena's hand and pulled her up as well.

"Serena, accompany me to the powder room?" Blair's grips tightened on Serena's hand when she seemed like she was about to protest. "_Now_."

"Now, there's no need for that," Chuck drawled. "Nathaniel and I would love to watch."

"You're really disgusting," Serena sighed with a small flip of her hair, and she allowed Blair to drag her off to the luxe powder room, one that was fully equipped with velvet lounge chairs outside of the stalls for hushed conversations just like this one. "Okay…_okay_, Blair. What is it?"

Blair calmed herself, released her friend's hand, and took in a quick gulp of air. "It's just…It's _such _a pity that you won't be joining us on our holiday," Blair said evenly, hoping her racing heart wouldn't betray the command hidden under her words.

Serena sighed, massaged her own temples. "I have no idea why you're being so cryptic. _Of course_ I'm going with you guys. We just talked about it – "

"No, Serena," Blair snapped. She dropped her hands onto the blonde's shoulders and said, "It's just too bad that something else is going to come up, and I won't find out about it until I'm already on my way upstate, stuck with that _horrid _Chuck Bass for the entire weekend, all alone and unsupervised."

It took Serena a full two minutes to understand the implications of her friend's statement.

"Oh…" Serena was already shaking her head, backing away. "No, no, no. B, this is such a _terrible _idea. You of all people should know how bad of a liar I am."

"Yes, well, it's unfortunate, but still passable," Blair claimed. "Serena please, do this for me. I just need this time with him, this time _away _with him." She looked so small, so uncomfortable with pleading, like she was so unused to being at another person's hand this way, and the thought of _Chuck Bass _causing all of this unsettled her further.

"If you like him so much…"

Blair shook her head, smiled a bit. "If _you _liked _Nate _so much…" The brunette sighed, released her grip on Serena. "We all want what we can't have, Serena. But we still reach, don't we?" Blair nodded to herself. "We're all still falling, aren't we?"

Serena found herself speechless, swallowed back another protest as her eyes set on Blair's. "Okay, but – "

"Okay?" Blair was giddy now, taking Serena's hands again, pulling her in for a hug warmer than she thought the girl was capable of. "Okay," she breathlessly repeated, brown curls tumbling all around her perky face.

And as Serena hugged back, she could only hope that when the inevitable stormed finally passed over Blair's little parade, it wouldn't be a lethal one.

:::

The rumors often spoke of Chuck Bass being the devil himself, wicked in his vices, unkind in his various pursuits. He was a playboy, and it was a welcomed title. But still, he ached for something that a demon could not possibly know of. He allowed his maids to leave fresh bouquets in his foyer, he watched plays and operas alone and escaped them under the cover of midnight, he'd travelled Europe once just to marvel – and those were all the things of romantics.

No, Chuck Bass was just a boy wearing a devil's mask, toying with his pitchfork.

For the real thing, one would have to find his uncle.

Jack Bass had his shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest, had his legs spread wide open, sloppily drinking down an unidentifiable mixture of liquors when Georgina Sparks graced his presence, all legs and black heels sauntering into his suite.

"Jack."

"Kid," he condescended, pushing his drink to the side. "I do believe that I told you to join the twisted little foursome for breakfast this morning to avoid suspicion." He smiled, but it was all cruel when he bit out, "Was there something you didn't understand? Is it a joke when I talk, is that it?"

"Your short, rather humorous temper has no effect on me," Georgina sighed, blue eyes glinting behind of veil of jet-black hair. "Your voice is about as deep as a puddle, and there are stains all over your shirt." She smiled. "I didn't go to breakfast because my appetite was a little more…sexual."

Jack grinned. "I'll let you touch me once you're married to my nephew."

"Twisted," she commented.

"Do I look like I'm anything else?"

Georgina shook her head, took another step into the room, didn't even waver when he placed a sleazy hand on her ass. Jack murmured, "Here's a gentle reminder that I'm a Bass. I don't need _you _to collect that inheritance."

Georgina dipped low, stroked her tongue up his jaw until she came to his ear. "Here's a gentle reminder that Bart won't let you anywhere near what he handed down to his son." She smirked. "If anything were to happen to Chuck, only his wife would collect the American properties."

Jack didn't necessarily deny this, just shoved her away, slammed her back against the wall with one hand dangerously close to her throat.

"Do you think he'll put up a fight?" Georgina laughed, neck arching under Jack's fingertips. "Do you think Charles will keep his eyes open when we have him killed?"

:::

They had three days. Three days to seal an impossibility, three days to authenticate the sweetest secret that either of them had ever known.

On the first, they rode his DeSoto up to the country, her hands prettily gloved and folded atop her lap. At her side, Chuck was watching, was skimming her skin with merely a sharp gaze as they struggled not to touch each other. He had claimed that Blair wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of him on the way there, and she had rolled her eyes, he had teased her again, and they had bickered until she was back to "hating" him once more. But now it was Chuck trembling, it was Chuck who ached to reach over, push up her skirts, and palm her milky thighs in his hands. The sight of it delighted Blair to no end.

"Oh," Blair sighed, drawing down the neck of her dress below her collarbone. She dropped her hand against his leg, and he sucked in a breath, staring down at where she had just touched him. "Oh, Charles," she repeated, drawling out his full name, swiveling in her seat. "I just feel so heated." She licked her top lip. "I'm all hot. So bothered."

Chuck stared back at her, a solemn expression on his face. His jaw was so tense that Blair had to hold back a giggle. And then he leaned forward, ever so carefully, being sure to keep his body just an inch away to turn her laughter into a pant. He said, "Continue, Blair. And we won't make it to the chateau."

She fully believed him.

Hours later, the sky was a quiet purple, the night was colder than it had been for weeks, and Chuck had to wrap the yawning brunette in his overcoat, practically drag her inside when she wouldn't budge her head from his shoulder.

He loved seeing her like this.

Chuck stood back as Blair clutched his coat around her frail shoulders, as she sleepily walked into the foyer, lips parted at the grand hall, the walls that were windows, the lush green and the marvelous little lake outside. "Chuck!" she exclaimed, now fully awake. "Calling this a _chateau _was quite the understatement."

His smirk came as easily as the wind. "I thought you'd admire it."

"_Admire_ it," Blair echoed, incredulous. She turned to him, bit down on her lip more childishly than she would have liked. "And we're…all alone here?"

"Save for one maid."

Blair's brown eyes narrowed. "A maid?"

"Just to…keep things in order," Chuck amended. He stepped forward, bowed her against his chest, whispered against her forehead, "You and I will be occupied with other things." He kissed her slowly, paid attention in the way other men never bothered to. A small child reciting the alphabet, a kid on their bicycle, he learned her just the same, savored every flutter of her lashes on his cheek, remembered the taste of sugar apples on her tongue.

And in bed, his fingers seemed to fit over every curve, in every fold, and they pressed into the birthmark on her lower back, made her smile, then gasp, then fall face first into the sheets – he had her on her hands and knees, and he took thorough advantage of that.

He noticed that she frowned when she orgasmed, worked up a beautiful little scowl as her body arched higher, like she was fighting with him, even while he was loving her. And after sex like this, he wondered how he'd ever had it any other way.

"I should feel guilty," Blair whispered once the sun shimmied in with soft rays and greeted them again. "You should make me nauseous, and I should want to stop, and I should be _telling _you to stop because in just two weeks – " Her words died, they were too much to bear, especially when his hand was stroking the line of her naked back, and he was propped up against the headboard so handsomely, so casually…

"Blair – "

"Don't you feel guilty?" Blair sighed, furrowed further into her burial of white silk. "He's your best friend."

"And yet, that has nothing to do with that fact that you are mine," Chuck said simply, "that I am yours."

:::

On the second day, Chuck was naughty – because things like this _always _occurred to him.

He was watching her as they ate breakfast, smirking as she cut everything up so neatly, carved, dabbed, folded, and hiccupped like a well-trained little girl. When she caught him staring, she rolled her eyes. "_What_, Bass?"

"Such a good society girl," Chuck remarked. "I'm just not used to sharing a bed with one woman and waking up to share breakfast with another." He paused, then clarified, "I obviously don't partake in the latter."

Blair flushed furiously and grumbled, "I'm the _same _person."

Chuck smiled, had a bite of his pastry, then reached over to swipe a drizzle of honey from the corner of her lips. "Tell me, how many hours did you spend reciting and curtsying and pouring tea until your wrist was sore, Waldorf? I know that it must have bored you." His eyes twinkled. "I know you."

"You don't know anything," Blair frowned, slapping his hand away.

"I know some lessons of my own."

"I doubt I want to learn whatever _you_ have to teach me," Blair smirked, peering at him from behind her teacup.

"Want to bet?"

One second, three seconds, then another five passed until curiosity dragged her down. Blair didn't look at him when she asked, "What sort of lesson, anyway?"

Chuck was up from his seat and smiling in seconds. "Go have a seat at the grand dining table," he said, then pinched the fabric of her robe. "And leave this on…for now."

Blair did leave it on, swallowed nervously as she sat at the head of the grand dining table for a long five minutes, listening to a grandfather clock tick and turn from the main room. She felt his presence before she felt one of his hands cup her shoulder, then slide up to the nape of her neck.

"Posture, Waldorf," Chuck drawled, smoothing his thumb over her skin. "That's our lesson of the day."

"_Posture_?" Blair scoffed. "I already have perfect posture."

He rolled her shoulder back and grinned. "Then you'd be willing to put that to the test?"

Blair pursed her lips. "I…suppose." And before she could question him any further, she felt something hard thump against her head, felt his hand hold it there, and she yelped, almost reached out to slap him before she realized that it was only a stack of old books.

"Surely they must have tested you with this during your etiquette classes," Chuck said, still holding the books in place. "And I'm sure that you excelled, Waldorf. I'm sure that you balanced the highest stack, that you were so proud when the others' books fell." He leaned over, pressed his chin into her shoulder. "The question is, do you still have it in you?"

Blair's breath shook as she stared straight forward. "Of course I do. If you insist on boring me so."

He only chuckled before whispering, "Keep the books on your head, Blair. No matter what. _Nothing _would break a true lady's posture." Chuck released his hold on the stack, so it was only her stance that was keeping the books in order. He pushed the table with an angry scrape, smiling as he knelt before her, hands cupping her calves.

All the while, Blair focused, stared straight forward.

"You see, one should never underestimate the power of distraction," Chuck explained, pulling at the belt of her robe until it was but a sliver of silk on the hardwood floor. Her robe fell open, slid from one shoulder, and Blair shivered when cold air hit her naked body. The books didn't budge. "One should never underestimate – " He cut off when his lips became occupied with one of her soft breasts. " – the power of a simple kiss."

Blair gasped, clenched her fingers into the chair's plush seat. "What are you doing?"

"You accepted the challenge, Blair," Chuck murmured against the swell of her other breast.

"Yes, but…"

His hand skirted to her upper thigh, shoved it away from the other.

"But what?"

He found Blair wet when one finger slid across her heated folds while he teased and bit into the supple skin of her stomach. The books slid just a bit, dangerously near toppling over.

"I didn't think you would…"

Chuck glanced up from licking at her hipbone. "You didn't think I would _what_?"

Blair seethed, refused to look down. "_Nothing_."

Chuck's smile was perfectly content when he slid her legs further apart, anchored his fingers around her knees, scraped his teeth along her thigh. She trembled, tensed, curled into herself to keep him away, but the books seemed ready to dive. Her mouth dropped open, a nearly guttural sound filled the room, and her nails tore little rips into the chair.

And just as his full lips touched her heat, Chuck groaned, "You taste absolutely delicious, Waldorf."

The books slammed to the floor, and the chair scraped away.

But before Chuck's grin could even turn smug, Blair wiped her own wetness from his lips, pushed him back against the dining room table with a startling amount of force, and kissed him hard.

All the while she whispered, "Remember, Charles. _Posture_. No matter what."

:::

On the last day, rain fell, and clouds hung over the chateau like a warm night would. For hours, he whispered to her, dastardly things, broken memories, amusing little Chuck Bass quips. And, in turn, she told him silly stories, recounted her favorite things and her favorite plays, complained about her mother as he played with her hair.

It turned out that Chuck very much enjoyed playing with her hair.

They didn't always know how to be playful with each other – Blair was taught never to play, Chuck never learned how – but they managed. She would slip from his arms, and he would groan in protest.

"Catch me, Bass," she called, tiptoeing at the foot of their shared bed. Her white gown flowed all around her feet, and Chuck's chest tightened in the sweetest way.

"I don't run," Chuck argued, sitting back.

"No," Blair mused, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "But you _will _chase." And when Chuck tackled her to the ground, kissed her sloppily on purpose, she realized that she could barely recognize the sound of her own laughter.

:::

She broke away from him only to fetch herself tea by the pantry. It was another hour before he begrudgingly let her go, watched her saunter off with a sullen expression on his face. Blair was wearing his shirt when she stumbled into the kitchen, a love-struck expression painted on her features. And then she heard a large _clank_, heard footsteps behind her.

The scream caught in Blair's throat when she saw the young girl dressed in a drab maid's uniform in front of her, carrying a wicker basket hooked into the crook of her elbow. Blair frowned, stared back at the dowdy girl, the wild tangle of curls, and stepped away.

"Well, you must be the one maid," Blair stated.

"Yes," the girl replied. "That would be me."

"You certainly have made yourself invisible this weekend," Blair sniffed. "Very impressive."

The girl's gaze was not nearly shy enough. "Thank you, Madame."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "Miss Waldorf will be fine, thank you." She stepped further away, leaned against the doorway, listened to rain pour against the long windows. "Make me a tea, please." Blair lifted her chin as the girl got to work, stood by her basket and fussed over the kettle. After a pause, Blair questioned, "Who _are _you, anyway?"

The girl didn't look up.

"It doesn't even matter," Blair said, suddenly peeved. "I'll have my tea in the sitting room. Be sure that it's hot." And then she was gone, her mind already filtering out the other brunette from her memory.

And the girl stayed quiet for a long time, made tea for herself first, sat atop one of the kitchen stools and stared off at the place where Blair had just been standing.

The girl reached into her basket, literally took matters into her own hands when she pulled the bulky black camera from its case, ran her finger over the unrefined gears and edges, and smiled. _If Dan was too much of a coward, she couldn't be._

"Vanessa," she said to the wind. "My name is Vanessa."

:::

Nate figured that it probably wasn't great that he liked his wife –

- and was utterly infatuated by her newly-turned best friend.

Blonde hair swept through his dreams, rather than brunette. Long nights spent drunk in Liverpool, feeling everything and thinking of absolutely nothing played like a constant film reel in his mind. And he _knew _–

Blair was the one they wanted for him.

But Serena was who he wanted for himself.

But it was a tangle of loyalties, a tangle of obligations, and none of them would surface from this in love. He didn't know many things, but he was sure of that. He was thinking of this now, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, locks of hair swinging into his eyes as he wandered the halls of The Palace, kicked an imaginary rock in front of his feet, and ran straight into –

"Serena?" Nate blinked twice, made sure that the blonde in a sunny yellow gown was not an illusion, then turned towards her with an easy grin. "Serena, I didn't think you'd be here."

"Well," Serena breathed, twirling a strand of gold hair around her finger. "I'm…here. How was your grandfather's?" She bit down on her lip, like she was desperate to make this conversation intimate, but thought better of it.

"It was fantastic," Nate replied, bowing his head. "Actually, he found me a job, a position under my older cousin, high figures, a top title."

"Wow, Nate…" Serena couldn't help but feel bubbly around Nate, couldn't help but think that no other human being felt as light as she did. And so she braved a step forward, happily imagining her best friend off falling for Chuck Bass, figured that nobody would mind if she just – "That's so amazing." Serena pulled him in for a hug, slid her arms around his shoulders, squeezed tight, closed her eyes.

"It is amazing," Nate agreed as his hands found purchase around her waist.

She smelled like lilacs and hope. He felt like everything she'd ever wanted.

How could _that _be so wrong?

Just a mile away, two brunettes were walking into The Palace's side entrance, sobering up from the magic of the weekend before. Blair hadn't wanted to watch him go, not on the slow ride back, with his hand under her dress, his palm tucked against her bare belly as he slept against her shoulder, not when they began a slow ascent from the car, his thumb tracing idle circles into her palm, and not now, in the hall before her room, staring just a step away from each other and saying nothing.

"I'm going," Blair whispered.

"As am I," Chuck whispered back.

"Chuck, I just wanted to tell you – "

They heard voices then, and Blair quieted, whipped around to see two familiar blondes head for them from around the other corner. She startled when Nate stared back at her. And even Chuck seemed perturbed behind her, cleared his throat and took a respectful step away.

"Nate – "

"Blair?"

"I – " Blair glanced back at Chuck, then at Nate, lips pressed together, heart stilled. "Chuck was just helping me with the luggage." Neither of them bothered to acknowledge that only one little travel bag was present, and it was in Blair's hand.

"Serena," Nate said, frowning. "Weren't you supposed to be with them?"

"She was," Blair quickly covered. "I just had her run upstairs to get me a – "

"Snack," Serena finished. "She was famished in the car, nearly passed out when we drove back into the city. We had to get something into her system." Across from her, Blair stumbled a bit, sucked in her cheeks for effect.

"Oh," Nate nodded. "Okay, do you want me to – "

"No," Blair interrupted, leaning over to hug him. There were no sparks, their skin did not prickle. "I'm quite alright. I just need…sleep. I'm absolutely exhausted." And with that, she lifted herself and scurried off, not bearing to look back at Chuck when she found the door to her suite and shut it behind her. And when she laid down, she _did _feel sick, could not fight her heavy eyes, could not manage to move from her bed once she laid upon it.

Reality had hit her with all that it had, and even Blair Waldorf could not gather the strength to fight it.

And neither could she fight the other forces: the wicked pair plotting a young billionaire's demise two floors down, the more lowly pair across the Brooklyn Bridge, developing new photos over cups of stale coffee –

And the watchful mother, who was so keen on listening against closed doors, who was so deft at sneaking into her daughter's room, who had a good eye for brass keys tucked under folded garments – one that could only belong to the penthouse suite.

:::

A day later, Chuck asked her to meet him at midnight. He fought the giddiness gathered in the pit of his stomach, forced himself not to quaff his hair for a third time. He lit up a cigarette and decided to smoke it by the balcony, kept the glass doors wide open so that he could hear her enter. He sat back against a wicker chair, toyed with the sleeve of his blazer, thought of Blair and found himself smiling. It was a disease, this sort of infatuation. The grin would not remove itself. And yet he had never been more content with such a persistent illness.

Chuck heard the door creak open, heard footsteps in the darkness, and he smirked, lifted his shoulders and waited for her small arms to wrap around him. He turned just slightly, lifted his hand to offer her a puff of his cigar as he murmured, "Why, Miss Waldorf, I see that you've become a bit more eager in seeking out our trysts." He glanced over. "Not that I'm complaining – "

His words caught in his throat when the woman stared back at him. These were not the bright eyes of his strong-willed lover. The woman was older, skin crinkling, mouth pulled tight into a thin line. Chuck's hand dropped to his side and the cigar fell in turn, scattering ashes all across the gold flooring.

"Oh, wipe the surprise off your face, Charles," Eleanor Waldorf hissed. "This ends here and now."

* * *

**A/N: **I did struggle a bunch with this chapter. I know that a lot happened, but I wanted to portray how close we are to this story's boiling point. It's getting to a place where everything's on the line, and Chuck and Blair will have nowhere to run - not even to each other. So yes, I'd love to hear your predictions. The best is yet to come! xo, N


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